A Different Path
by Werewolf Cookies
Summary: We know what happens to Chloe while she's a necromancer, but what if Chloe was a ...  The Awakening, with Chloe being a different type of supernatural. Find out what the Edison Group did to her as you read my story.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Firstly: I do not own the darkest powers, they belong to Kelley Armstrong**

**So, My thoughts behind this story:**

**One day, I was sitting there, completely deprived of anything new from the Darkest Powers, and so I thought to myself, "What if Chloe wasn't a necromancer, but a different type of supernatural...?" I even had one in mind. This story will be as close to the original plot as possible, except for some parts (like the talking to dead people parts). The characters should *hopefully*not be OOC (you tell me if they are!! I want to know!!), except for Chloe of course. She is under the influence of her cool powers.**

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**Twelve Years Earlier...**

Mommy forgot to warn the new babysitter about the basement.

Chloe teetered on the top step, chubby hands reaching to clutch both railings, her arms shaking so much she could barely hang on. Her legs shook, too, the Scooby Doo heads on her slippers bobbling. Even her breath shook, puffing like she's been running.

"Chloe?" Emily's muffled voice drifted up from the dark basement. "Your mom said the Coke's in the cold cellar, but I can't find it, can you come down and help me?"

Mommy said she's told Emily about the basement. Chloe was sure of it. She closed her eyes and thought hard. Before Mommy and Daddy left for the party, she'd been playing in the TV room. Mommy had called, and Chloe had run into the front hall where Mommy had scooped her up in a hug, laughing when Chloe's doll poked her eye.

"I see you're playing with Princess – I mean Pirate Jasmine. Has she rescued poor Aladdin from the evil genie yet?"

Chloe shook her head, then whispered, "Did you tell Emily about the basement?"

"I most certainly did. No basements for Miss Emily. That door stays closed." When Daddy came around the corner, Mommy said, "We really need to talk about moving, Steve."

"Say the word, and the sign goes up." Daddy ruffled Chloe's hair. "Be good for Emily kiddo."

And then they were gone.

"Chloe, I know you can hear me," Emily yelled.

Chloe's fingers tightened around the railing.

"Chloe!"

"You can't go in the basement," Chloe called. "You're not allowed!"

"Well I'm in charge and I say I am, now come on!"

Chloe's feet moved down one step. The back of her throat hurt and everything looked red, like she was looking through red glass.

"Chloe Saunders, you have five seconds or I'll drag you down here and lock the door."

Chloe ran down the steps, her feet moving too fast. She stopped on the landing. She stood there, her head throbbing as she peered into the basement, with its smells and sounds and shadows. And it was all hers.

Chloe wasn't the only one that went down to the basement. There were others that could come down. Chloe let Mommy and Daddy come and play with her, or sometimes, put more things into the cellar. But she didn't let anyone else down here.

"Chloe?" Emily's muffled voice called. "Are you coming?"

Mommy would say, "Think about the good parts, not the bad." So as Chloe walked down the last three steps, she thought about how she'll be able to play with Emily down here and she didn't think about how she wanted to throw her out at all ... or not very much.

At the bottom, she looked into the near darkness. Just the night lights were on, the ones that didn't really do anything since Chloe could see pretty well already.

Chloe could clearly see the cold cellar door, and she couldn't keep her eyes off of it. She ran to the door and yanked it open. Inside it was pitch black.

"Chloe?" Emily called from the darkness

Chloe clenched her fists. Now Emily was being mean – trying to hide from her.

"Come on, Chloe. You aren't afraid of the dark, are you?" Emily laughed. "I guess you're still a little baby after all."

Chloe scowled. Emily didn't know anything. Just a stupid, mean girl. She could see just fine. She would calm down, get her Coke, then run upstairs and tell Mommy, and Emily would never babysit her again.

She leaned into the tiny room, trying to see where Mommy kept the Coke. That was it on the shelf! She darted over and stood on her tiptoes. Her fingers closed around a cool metal can.

"Now hurry up and give me that." She heard Emily say behind her.

Chloe dropped the can. It hit the concrete with a crack, then rolled against her foot, hissing and spitting, soda pooling around her slippers.

"Look at what you've done to my Coke! You're going to clean this!" shouted Emily, grabbing Chloe's shoulder.

Chloe turned slowly.

She saw Emily's face in the dark; it looked red, just like everything else. Chloe's feet sprang as she leaped onto Emily's torso; her hands clenched Emily's shoulder, tearing through clothes and skin. Chloe's teeth clamped down at the base of Emily's throat and she tasted something interesting her mouth.

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**A/N: So, as you see, I haven't changed much of the prologue, and yes, I am aware of the fact that it is almost exactly like the book, but i had fun slightly twisting the words to help change stuff around in the future. In the first few chapters, I wouldn't be surprised if they were almost the same as the book, except for the ghost stuff. Remember though, Chloe should still be Chloe as she was in the beginning (in character). It will be later on that she starts transforming because of her new-found powers. Hope you enjoyed!! R&R**


	2. A Faulty Bark

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A/N: So, here's chapter 1, "A Faulty Bark" (came up with the title in 2 seconds... I swear). There wasn't as much of *stuff*(necromancer related details) that I could tweak to suit Chloe's new powers. Hope you guys enjoy.

**And of course, jacee4, .Raised . In . Abuse., and Moon-Lover1994... I do adore thee with a magnitude of a whole-freaking-lot!!! Thank you guys for your encouraging reviews, they are what made me write this chapter at 12 am.**

**OH! I almost forgot to mention to all of those silly, silly readers that think that I claim to own the Darkest Powers series that sadly, I do not – own the series, that is. I do wish sometimes though.**

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**Chapter 1**

I bolted up in bed, one hand clutching my pendant, the other wrapped in my sheets. I struggled to recapture wisps of the dream already fluttering away. Something about a basement... a little girl... me? I couldn't remember ever having a basement – we'd always lived in condo apartments.

A little girl in a basement, something scary... weren't basements always scary? I shivered just thinking about them, dark and damp and empty. But this one felt relaxing, somehow familiar. It's like it belonged... I couldn't remember. And why did I feel like it was _mine_?

A bang at my bedroom door made me jump.

"Chloe!" Annette shrieked. "Why hasn't your alarm gone off? I'm the housekeeper not your nanny. If you're late again, I'm calling your father."

As threats went, this wasn't exactly the stuff of nightmares. Even if Annette managed to get hold of my dad in Berlin, he'd just pretend to listen, eyes on his BlackBerry, attention riveted to something more important, like the weather forecast. He'd murmur a vague "yes, I'll see to it when I get back" and forget all about me the moment he hung up.

I turned on my radio, cranked it up, and crawled out of bed.

A half hour later, I was in my bathroom, getting ready for school.

I pulled the sides of my hair back in clips, glanced in the mirror and shuddered. The style made me look twelve years old... and I didn't need any help. I'd just turned fifteen and servers still handed me the kiddie menu in restaurants. I couldn't blame them. I was five foot nothing with curves that only showed if I wore tight jeans with a tighter T-shirt.

...

Milos was waiting for me in his cab at the curb. He'd been driving me for two years now, through two moves and three schools. As I got in, he adjusted the visor on my side. The morning sun still hit my eyes, but I didn't tell him that.

The slight throbbing in my head lessened as I rubbed my fingers over a familiar rip in the armrest and inhaled chemical pine from the air freshener twisting above the vent.

"I saw a movie last night," he said as he slid the cab across three lanes. "One of the kind you like."

"A thriller?"

"No." He frowned, lips moving as if testing out word choices. "An action-adventure. You know, lots of guns, things blowing up. A real shoot-'em-down movie."

I hated correcting Milos's English, but he insisted on it. "You mean a shoot-'em-up movie."

He cocked one dark brow. "When you shoot a man, which way does he fall? Up?"

I laughed and we talked about movies for a while. My favourite subject.

When Milos had to take a call from his dispatcher, I glanced out the side window. I was watching a cluster of businessmen when the headache returned, only much stronger. Wincing, I tilted my head down and pressed my hands on either side, as though it could lessen the pressure building up inside of it. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

The smell in the car was becoming slightly stronger, and I could now clearly smell Milos aftershave. Buzzing erupted in my ears, like a swarm of angry bees. I opened my eyes, still looking down and holding my head, and realized that everything had a pinkish tint to it.

And that's when I heard it. Amidst all the buzzing, a dog's single shrill bark, as loud as if it was right next to me in the car... or right outside!

"Milos!" I screamed. "Watch-"

The last word was ripped from my lungs as I slammed against my shoulder belt. The driver behind us, and the one behind him, laid on their horns, a chain reaction of protest.

"What?" Milos said. "Chloe? What's wrong?"

I looked over the hood and the sides of the car and saw... nothing. Just an empty lane in front of us and the sidewalk filled with people on their way to work, school or whatever else. The only dog that I saw was an over-pampered schnauzer almost a whole block away. There was no way I could have heard him bark over the sound of the early traffic.

"I'm sorry. I thought there was a dog out here on the street."

Milos eased the taxi forward. "That happens to me sometimes, especially if I'm turning my head. I think I see something, but there's nothing there."

I nodded. My head still hurt a bit.

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**A/N: So, here's chapter 1. I m sorry about the lack of action in this one; but there is a little bit at the end. I'm trying to stick to the chapter outline that is in The Summoning, at least for the beginning . I didn't have much to change throughout most if this chapter, so I omitted a chunk. I left the parts that I thought would portray that Chloe is still Chloe.**

**P.S. I'm debating on what supernatural she might be. I was leaning toward one when I wrote the prologue, but now... I'm not sure what I'll do with it.**


	3. Disembodied Voices

**A/N: Chapter 2: "Disembodied Voices" is here!! I changed some small *stuff* in this one, you might not even find the difference. Oh well, I still encourage you to go read it! Pretty please! And don't forget to review! They are the support that tells me to write more, and they also make me happy. Which is exactly why I do thank my dearest reviewers (including the future ones, cuz you all are going to review this, right... right??? I hope so), you all have a special place in my heart.**

**Disclaimer: As much as I dream to own the Darkest Powers (mostly Derek, really), I do not. However, Kelley Armstrong does!**

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**Chapter 2**

Between the dream I couldn't remember and the dog I couldn't have heard, I was spooked. Until I got at least one question out of my head, focusing on my Spanish test was out of the question. So I called Aunt Lauren. When I got her voice mail, I said I'd phone back at lunch. I was halfway to Kari's locker when my Aunt called back.

"Did I ever live in a house with a basement?" I asked.

"And good morning to you too."

"Sorry. I had this dream and it's bugging me." I told her what bits I could recall.

"Ah, that would have been the old house in Allentown. You were just a tyke. I'm not surprised you don't remember."

"Thanks. It was–"

"Bugging you, I can tell. Must have been a doozy of a nightmare."

"Something about the basement and blood. Very cliché. I'm ashamed of myself."

"Blood? What–?"

The PA system on her end had cut her off, a tiny voice saying "Dr. Fellows, please report to station 3B."

"That'd be your cue," I said.

"It can wait. Is everything okay Chloe? You sound off."

"No, just... my imagination in overdrive today. I freaked Milos out this morning, thinking I heard a dog bark right next to the car on the street."

"What?"

"There wasn't a dog. Not for another two hundred feet, anyway." I saw Kari at her locker and waived. "The bell is going to ring so–"

"I'm picking you up after school. High tea at the Crowne. We'll talk."

The line went dead before I could argue. I shook my head and ran to catch up with Kari.

**. . .**

Film Club had ended. Whoever left the auditorium last had turned out the lights, and I didn't have a clue how to turn them on, especially when finding a switch would require being able to _see_ it – how am I supposed to _see in the dark_? Glow-in-the-dark light switches. That's how I finance my first film. Of course, I'd need someone to actually make them. Like most directors, I was more of an idea person.

I picked my way through the aisles, bashing my knees twice. Finally my eyes adjusted to the dim emergency lights, and I found the stairs leading backstage. Then it got tougher.

The backstage dissolved into smaller areas curtained off for storage and makeshift dressing rooms. There were lights, but someone else had always turned them on. After feeling around the nearest wall and not finding a switch, I gave up. The faint glow of more emergency lights let me see shapes. Good enough.

Still, it was pretty dark. I'm not too comfortable in the dark. I had some bad experiences as a child, thinking that someone was coming to get me and take me away.

The smell of grease paint told me I was in the dressing area, but the scent, mingled with the unmistakeable odour of mothballs and old costumes, didn't calm the way it usually did. It seemed a bit too strong – even more than usual – but I wrote it off as a side effect of trying to see in the dark. I was just making myself super sensitive to my surroundings, straining all my other senses to help me get around when sight isn't much help.

Three more steps and I did let out a shriek as fabric billowed around me. I'd stumbled into a curtain. Great. Exactly how loud had I screamed? I really hoped these walls were soundproof.

I swept my hand over the scratchy polyester until I found the opening and parted the curtains. Ahead, I could make out the lunch table surrounded by thinning darkness. Something yellow sat on the top. My bag?

The makeshift hall seemed to stretch before me, yawning into the dimness. It was the perspective – the two curtained sides angled inward, so the hall narrowed. Interesting illusion, especially for a suspense film, or it would be if the room was a little darker; it started to slightly light up.

Thinking about the corridor as a movie helped calm my nerves. I framed the shot, the bounce of my step adding a jerkiness that would make the scene more immediate, putting the viewer in the head of our protagonists, the foolish girl making her way toward the strange noise.

Something thumped. I started, and my shoes squeaked and that noise made me jump higher. I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms and tried to laugh – wishing that it would rub my headache away as well. Okay, I did say strange noise, didn't I? Cue the sound effects, please.

Another noise. Muffled voices flitted through the darkness. People talking, laughing – had someone heard and decided to check on the noise I'd made earlier?

"Hello?" I called out into the darkness, which wasn't even that dark anymore. I could make out all the shapes but I didn't see anyone come in or walk around. I walked over to the curtains and peeled one side off of the wall. "Is anyone there?" All I saw was the deserted auditorium. But I could still hear the voices. How clichéd. Time to turn off my galloping imagination and focus. Direct the scene.

_Our protagonist sees something move at the end of the corridor. The shadowy figure–_

Oh please, talk about cheap thrill. Go for original... mysterious...

Take two.

_What's that she sees? A child's lunch bag, bright yellow and new, out of place in this old condemned house._

Keep the film rolling. Don't let my mind wander–

A sob echoed through the empty, yet, buzzing room, then broke off, dissolving into wet snuffling.

Crying. Right. From my movie. The protagonist sees a child's lunch bag, then hears disembodied, eerie sobs. Voices whirl around her. Flashes of faces and past events surge through her mind. A loud crash from behind–

I flung myself forward, racing for my bag. I grabbed it and took off.

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**A/N: Hello again! As you may have noticed, I took a good chunk out of there. I just didn't see it important enough to retype word for word from the book, since there's nothing supernatural that I could change. I did change/add a little bit of the stuff at the end , and tomorrow's chapter will be quite interresting, I think - or, at least, not as boring as this one.**

**Onto another subject, I figured out what Chloe is... it took some time because I had a few cool ideas. But finally, I went back to the original one, because it would have the least plot holes (I have quite the distaste for those). I don't know if I should give you guys some hints. I had something super cool in mind, but then I remembered... Chloe was a subject of only _one_ experiment, I think... and that messed the idea up. But that's OK, because she's still cool.**

** So for now, go review!**

**P.S. Reviews give Chloe awesome powers.**


	4. The Vision

**A/N: Chapter 3 "The Vision" is here!! YAY! This chapter is very special because it's the first major (it's not that major, but it _is_ an important backdrop change) sway from the events that happened in The Summoning (which I don't own, btw). **

**I hope you enjoy and don't forget to review! Those words of encouragement definitely warm my heart.**

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**Chapter 3**

**. . .**

A senior whacked into me, knocking off my backpack and muttering something about "standing in the middle of the hall." As I bent to grab my bag, I felt a gush between my legs.

I snapped upright and stood frozen before taking a tentative step.

Oh God. Had I actually wet myself? I took a deep breath. Maybe I _was_ sick. My stomach had been dancing all day and my head buzzed since the car ride.

_See if you can clean up, and if it's bad, take a cab home._

In the bathroom, I pulled down my pants and saw bright red.

For a couple of minutes, I just sat there, on the toilet, grinning like an idiot and hoping that the rumour about school bathroom cams wasn't true.

**. . .**

After I fixed myself up, I dug into my backpack for my brush and emerged instead with the tube of hair colour. I lifted it, my slightly flushed reflection in the mirror grinned back.

Colouring my hair at the school bathroom sink wouldn't be easy, but it would probably be simpler than at home, with Annette hovering.

Dying a dozen bright red streaks took twenty minutes. I'd had to take off my shirt to avoid getting dye on it, so I was standing over the sink in my bra and jeans. Luckily no one came in.

I finished squeezing the strands dry with paper towel, took a deep breath, looked... and smiled. Kari had been right. It looked good. Annette would freak. My dad might notice. Might even get mad. But I was pretty sure no one was going to hand me a twelve-and-under menu anymore. The streaks in my hair seemed to give colour to my face; it now had a pleasant pink undertone. So did everything else.

The door creaked. I shoved the towels in the trash, grabbed my shirt, and dashed into the stall. I barely had time to latch the door before the other girl started crying, loudly. The familiar sound made my headache grow stronger; the pulsing in my head picking up speed. I glanced over and saw a pair of Reeboks in the next stall.

Should I ask whether she was okay? Or would that embarrass her?

The toilet flushed and the shadow at my feet shifted. The stall lock clicked open. When the taps started though, the sobs got even louder, along with the buzzing of the lights, the sound of water gushing out the tap, and everything else.

The throbbing in my head amplified all sounds. It seemed to have somehow amplified the odours, too, because I could now clearly smell the harsh scent of the chemicals that were used to clean the washroom and the light perfume that the girl was wearing, mixed with her hair products and the scent of mint. Only it didn't seem light, the smell was as strong as if someone took a bottle of flowery perfume/fruity hair product/mint and sprayed it straight into my nose.

The water shut off. The towel roll squeaked. Paper crumpled. The door opened with a deafening creak, letting in more noise from the hall way. The crying continued.

A cold finger slid down my spine. I'd told myself she'd changed her mind, and was staying until she got things under control, but the crying sounded as though it came from right beside me. In the next stall.

I squeezed my hands into fists. It was just my imagination; the stupid headache made me hear things that weren't real.

I slowly bent, which worsened the pain. No shoes under the divider. I ducked farther, fighting with the protest coming from my head, no shoes in any of the stalls. The crying finally seemed to have quieted down, as though it was getting farther away, and soon, was completely gone.

I yanked my shirt on and hurried from the bathroom before it could start again. As the door shut behind me, the buzzing roared up in my head, making me clamp my hands onto the either side of my head, as though it might shatter into a million pieces if I don't hold on to it. The voices came at me again, only stronger – each one felt like a blow to my brain, yet they all seemed to talk about random, normal, every day subjects. The smells from the cafeteria mixed with colognes that were feverishly sprayed in the hallways in-between classes, chemicals, and dust invaded my nose; the rush of a hundred different odours swirling all around me.

I spun around to see that I was alone in the middle of an empty hall, lit with reddish light. Confused and wincing with pain, I shut my eyes, hoping that it would shut out the noises and the smells, too. I wrapped my arms around my head and bent down, wishing that the pain would somehow stop.

However, attempting to block everything out only made the pain worse - it was now red-hot. Even though my eyes were tightly closed, I began to see something; images stirring out from a deep, forgotten crevice in my mind. I saw a girl... who was she? She was splattered with something red. She was... me?

***

Chloe was scared.

She'd just hurt Emily. But it wan't because she wanted to.

Chloe remembered being so mad, Emily had gone down to the basement, and started yelling at her – telling her what to do. Was that really something to get so mad about... so much so that she had to hurt Emily because of it?

She watched Emily's unmoving body - which could be barely seen because of the dark - for what seemed like hours when she heard movement above her head. Someone called her name several times. Then lights went on, illuminating the pool of red around emily. Some of the red on Emily's face and clothes started crusting, turning to brown. She heard a gasp echo behind her. It was Mommy. She and Daddy just came home. Mommy ran up stairs, and sometime later, she came back. But this time, she wasn't alone.

Chloe turned to see four others she did not know.

As one of the men took a step toward her, something told Chloe that she had to move. She couldn't let them reach her - they'd take her away! But when she just sat there, the pain in her head came back. Once again she found that her body moved on its own, but this time, unlike the last, she also realised that something felt different about her mouth and hands.

The man came closer and tried to grab Chloe. She whirled on him, plunging her small, yet, strong, clawed hands into his forearm. He let out a yelp of pain as he staggered back, clutching his now bleeding arm.

Chloe could see Mommy standing farther back, she looked sad. She may have even been crying. But Mommy wasn't doing anything – she wasn't helping Chloe.

That's when the other three closed in.

In the midst of the struggle, Chloe felt a sting in her leg. One of the men had managed to stick something in it while the other two attempted to restrain her. Yelling and screaming, she still managed to kick out – she was driven by something that she couldn't understand. It felt like there was someone else in Chloe's head that told her exactly what to do, that did it _for her_. And right now, it told her to _run..._

***

With the vision, or whatever it was, slipping away, I finally came back to my senses, to realize that I was no longer in the hallway in front of the washrooms. I was in a classroom. Someone was screaming and I was struggling to get away from... teachers?

An image drifted into my head; a little girl fighting men, for some reason worried that they might take her away. How did it turn into this? I became conscious of the fact that I was still thrashing against the teachers' grasps almost as soon as I realised that the screams came from my own mouth and one of the teachers' sleeves was torn, with some blood seeping through.

But I didn't stop.

The image of the men trying to take the little girl away kept me going.

Finally, the two men in uniforms hurried through the door. One helped the teachers restrain me while the other moved behind, out of my sight. Fingers tightened on my forearm. Then a needle prick. Ice slid through my veins and this felt all too familiar.

Then the room started to sway, but I could still feel the stirring memory of the voice inside my head that told me to run.

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**A/N: How do you guys like it so far??? Can you guess what Chloe is yet (even if you can, the next chapters are gonna mess you up, bad!)??? Have you noticed the symptoms that she gets before something weird happens???? I really, _really_, want your feedback on the way the story is going so far. Sadly, I think that this is the last action-packed chapter for a while. But more sways are coming (like Chloe's mental illness.. I was thinking about changing it to something that will fit her new symptoms). I have pretty much most of the story mapped out (some parts more than others)... in my head. Let's hope i don't lose it so I can keep writing. But I must forewarn you... *cool* is coming (I can't wait to write some of the scenes ^^). And I promise that I'll keep dropping random hints about future chapters (like I'm doing right now) in the A/N's. So, thanks for reading and go review, like now! **

**P.S. Reviews protect you from having a bottle of flowery perfume/fruity hair product/mint sprayed into your nose.**


	5. Self Doubt

**A/N: I don't own Darkest Powers, Kelley Armstrong does. Without further ado, let's just get this over with... I present you chapter 4 "Self-doubt" (yup, I even couldn't come up with a good title for this one)**

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**Chapter 4**

I sat on the edge of my hospital bed and tried to persuade myself I was still asleep. That was the best explanation for what I was hearing. I could also chalk it up to _delusional_, but I prefer _dreaming_.

**. . .**

No one would say what was wrong with me. They had me talk to a bunch of doctors and they ran some tests, and I could tell they had a good idea what was wrong and just wouldn't say it. That meant it was bad.

This wasn't the first time I'd acted this way. That's what Aunt Lauren wanted to talk to me about after school. When I was little I used to talk about things that I heard, or smelled, or done – impossible things. My parents figured it was creative imagination. Then my imagination got out of hand, because I started having episodes where I not only acted completely out of character, but also imagined that it wasn't me, but someone else that made me do it. Someone inside my own head.

One day, mom bought me a ruby necklace and said it would help me. Dad said it was all about psychology. I believed it worked, so it had. But now, it was happening again. And this time, no one was chalking it up to an overactive imagination.

They were sending me to a home for crazy kids. They thought I was crazy. I wasn't. If I was crazy, I'd be doing more that seeing flashes and hearing noises. I'd be acting crazy. I wasn't.

Or was I?

I felt normal. The only weird things that I remembered doing was dying my hair at the school sink, skipping class, and breaking into a napkin dispenser. And fighting with a teacher.

But that last one didn't count. I was freaked out by that vision that I saw. Anyone would be if they thought someone was going to... what? Kill me? Is that what the vision was about? The people were trying to kill the little girl?

My point is, I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. Before that, I'd been fine. Mr. Petrie thought I was fine when he put me on the director short list. Nate Bozian obviously thought I was fine. You wouldn't be happy if a crazy girl was going to a dance with you.

He had been happy, hadn't he?

When I'd thought back, it all seemed fuzzy, like some distant memory that maybe I only dreamed.

What if none of that happened? I _wanted_ the director spot. I'd _wanted_ Nate to be interested in me. Maybe I'd imagined it all. Hallucinated it, like the bark, and the crying, and ne voices and that vision that brought me here.

If I was crazy, would I know it? That's what being crazy was, wasn't it. You thought you were fine. Everyone else knew better.

Maybe I was crazy.

***

My father and Aunt Lauren drove me to Lyle house on Sunday afternoon.

**. . .**

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**A/N: I'm ashamed of myself at how short and uneventful this chapter is. I deeply apologise to all those who were hoping for something more (horrible letdown after the last chapter, huh?). Sadly, I was incapable of writing something amazing (blame it on school... or me, whichever). I could have written out those two pages of Chloe at Lyle house. But she was dead, or she sure seemed like it. Instead, I shortened it.**

**As a reply to those reviews...*face brightens*... I see you guys are trying to guess her powers. But that, my friends, is something that I can't give away. You can guess and elaborate on it, if you want to. I would actually love that, in the reviews especially. I was actually thinking of making the part where Chloe finds out about it a little different than in the book. But more on that later.**

**So, if you've read this far, I thank you for your patience with this monotonous chapter. I promise to do better later on. So, bear with me!**

**P.S. Reviews such as "wow, this chapter sucks" are accepted.**


	6. Why So Cheerful?

**A/N: Chapter 5 "Why So Cheerful?" (I'm proud of the title – it's Chloe-ish, I think. Do you guys get it?) is here. I changed stuff in this one. But only small stuff, like the way Chloe perceived most of what she was encountering. Foreshadowing is present in this chapter too.**

**Without further ado, I shall proclaim that I do not own the Darkest Powers and allow you to read on... enjoy!**

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**Chapter 5**

I awoke to loud clinking of metal hangers. A blond girl flipped through clothes that I was pretty sure were mine, hung up yesterday by Mrs. Talbot. I'm not sure whether I was irritated at the girl, who obviously had no respect for other's property, _or_ at the buzzing that now seemed ever-present in my head, _or_ at something completely different. I was, however, sure that this is the most irritated I have ever been in my entire life.

"Hello," I said, rather coldly, looking at the back of her golden head.

She turned and smiled. "Nice stuff. Good Labels."

"I'm Chloe," I said, still looking intently at her face.

"Liz." With a look in her eye that I couldn't quite place, she turned back toward the closet.

Looking at her made me wonder why she was here. She tried to start up the conversation again, but I didn't hear her.

If she was at Lyle House, there was something wrong with her. Some "mental condition."

Yet, she didn't _look_ crazy. Her hair was tied back in a gleaming ponytail. She wore Guess jeans and a Gap T-shirt. If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd woken up in a boarding school.

She seemed harmless enough, though. She'd have to be. They wouldn't put anyone dangerous in here. Or _really_ crazy.

_Oh no, Chloe. They don't put any really crazy people in here. Just the ones who hear voices and hallucinate about evil little girls and fight with teachers._

I tried to not think about it and calm the frustration inside me. But doing that made me over think it; I started wandering if I ever got this impatient before – which I couldn't remember, bumping my frustration up a notch.

Maybe I really was going crazy.

The unease that I felt finally came into light amongs my grumbling thoughts. A warning came off in my mind, telling me to be cautious. I wanted to get out of here, which meant I had to _act_ normal. So I tried to put on a smile.

Liz seemed to have picked up my mood change, because she brightened up. "Come on," she said. "Breakfast's in five minutes, and they get snippy if you're late. You can wear your pyjamas. The guys eat lunch and dinner with us, but they have breakfast later, so we get some privacy."

"Guys?"

"Simon, Derek, and Peter. The house is co-ed. We all share the bottom floor, but the top one is divided."

She leaned out and showed me how short the hallway is. "They get the other side. There's not even a joining door. Like we'd sneak over there at night if we could." She giggled – obviously getting more comfortable around me. "Well, Tori would. And I might, if there was someone worth sneaking over. Tori has dibs on Simon." She scrutinized me in the mirror. "You might like Peter, although he might me a bit younger than you. He's cute but only thirteen, almost fourteen, I think. How old are you?"

"I'm fifteen."

"Huh."

She didn't look fazed by my answer, as though to her, I LOOKED fifteen. I guess the highlight really did work.

"Fifteen, huh? What grade are you in?" She continued after a minute.

"Ninth."

"Same as Tori." I'm in tenth, like Simon, Derek, and Rae. I think Simon and Rae are still fifteen, though. And did I say I love your hair?"

She kept up the commentary as we headed downstairs, but I was more concerned about the muffled - yet still somehow loud – snoring that came from someone on the other side of the hallway.

***

We walked through the house, where I saw more cheerfulness all around the rooms. Yellow walls, flowers, comfy couches. This house wasn't so bad. Maybe it was the illusion of home that bothered me. Maybe, in some ways, I'd be happier with ugly couches, and white walls, and barred windows – no false promises. Yet just because I couldn't see any bars didn't mean it was as open as it seemed.

***

After breakfast, Tori, Liz, Rachelle, And I walked back up to our rooms to get dressed – and not without argument. Tori and Rae got into a dispute over laundry, the root of which turned out to be entirely my fault, as Tori clearly indicated with a scowl directed straight at me.

I felt slightly irritated again. It even made the clothes that I was wiggling myself into seem tighter. An impossible feat, since I was as skinny as a pick and always wore somewhat loose clothes - I didn't have the curves needed for the tighter ones.

***

As I walked to the living room to wait for Mrs. Talbot, I passed the front door and came across a blinking alarm. No attempt to hide it. A reminder, I guess. This might look like your house, but don't try walking out the front door. I walked around some more and found a window with a hole instead of a latch looking over the front yard - lots of trees, a quiet street, more older houses on big lots. No electric fences, no signs proclaiming LYLE HOUSE FOR CRAZY KIDS. All very ordinary, but I suspected that the alarm would sound if someone decided to smash through the glass.

The window on the other side of the house looked over the yard. It looked just as ordinary as the front - a shed, lawn chairs, more trees, and a garden. The soccer ball and basketball hoop over the cement told me that we were allowed out.

As I wondered how well it was monitored, Ms. Van Dop walked up behind me. Hearing her steps, I turned around and looked at her, trying to seem as though I was just looking out at the scenery. I tried to change the subject by asking for my necklace. She didn't buy it.

She explained to me the security system of the house, which pretty much consisted of the alarm. She explained this to me with a clear warning. She also told me the only way to the outside was through one of the nurses. We had to ask them before we went out into the backyard because they had to disable the alarm. "I won't sugar-coat it for you Chloe," she said. "I believe honesty is the first step to establishing trust, and trust is critical in a place like this."

Her gaze pierced mine, probing, making sure I understood the other side of the statement – that trust went both ways and I was expected to keep up my end.

Something told me that nodding would be a good idea right about now.

**___________________________________________________________  
A/N: I think this is quite an improvement from the last chapter. Yes? No? Maybe so? _I_ hope so. Anywhoozles... Next chapter, Chloe meets Derek. I want to do something interesting about that (as in change some stuff that will be barely noticeable, but will be referenced to in the future).**

**Oh, if you haven't realized, Chloe is acting kinda OOC in this one. That was on purpose. Her powers have began to take effect on her personality, among other things.**

**So, thanks for sticking through the previous chapter. I am trying to make up for it with the upcoming ones. Did you enjoy it? Do tell... in a review.**

**P.S. Questions in the reviews are welcome. I won't promise I'll give away all the answers, but I might give you some hints (it will also tell me what you're interrested in, *possibly* making me expand that subject...?).**


	7. Moodswings

**A/N: I am SO SORRY that I haven't posted for almost two weeks. There was just so much going on and I was either too busy or too tired to do it. But more on that topic at the bottom A/N's. Anyway here's Chapter 6 "Moodswings", I just felt like naming it this (theres almost no reason). I hope you enjoy and please review!**

**I do not own The Darkest Powers series (I do, however, have all three books sitting on my shelf :D).**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Mrs. Talbot set me up to peel carrots for lunch. I didn't dare tell her I've never peeled anything in my life. After hacking my thumb off, I got the hang of it.

"Peeling duty already?" a voice whispered. "What did you do to deserve that?"

This time when I wheeled around, there was actually someone standing there, talking to me. No bodiless voices. A guy, in fact, maybe a year older than me, a half foot taller and slender, with high cheekbones and dark blond hair worn in short, messy spikes stood behind me. His almond-shaped brown eyes danced with amusement.

"You must be Chloe."

He reached out. My body jumped back at the same time as a weird vibration started up in my mind, slightly overpowering the buzzing.

"I-I-" I didn't know what to say. Why did I just jump back... was this my mental illness coming through?

He put a finger to his lips, then pointed at the dining room door. Beyond it, Mrs. Talbot was talking to Liz.

"I'm not supposed to be in here," he whispered. "I'm Simon, by the way."

I suddenly became aware that he was standing between me and the exit. Maybe that was it. My unconscious mind realized this before, and that's why I jumped back – I wasn't going crazy. Yet his smile was friendly, and he was definitely cute, but cute didn't count with a guy who had you cornered in a group home.

He backed up to the walk-in pantry, lifted a finger telling me to wait, then disappeared inside. I could hear him rooting, rather loudly, around in the shelves. When I peeked in, he was taking down a box of graham crackers.

A kitchen raid? I couldn't help smiling. Guess it didn't matter whether it was a group home or a summer camp, guys and their stomachs didn't change. Simon pulled out an unopened sleeve of crackers.

"The other one's already open," I whispered pointing.

"Thanks, but he'll want the whole thing. Right, bro?"

I followed his gaze over my shoulder and felt it again - the pressure on the temples, as though, all of a sudden, there wasn't enough room inside my head. I was, however, trying to focus on the situation at hand. In particular, the guy standing behind me, who had to be at least six feet tall, with shoulders as wide as the door. Though he was as big as an adult, he'd never be mistaken for one. His face could be used as the "before" picture for acne cream. Dark hair hung in his eyes, lank and dull.

But the most interesting of all was the feeling that I got from him, or rather, the intricate jumble of feelings, all mashed up into one. I was curious. I wanted to run and cower. I wanted to stand my ground and show that I'm not afraid. I wanted to attack him, yet I also wanted to become closer with him. Standing next to him made me feel both as comfortable as though I was at home and as paranoid as though I was in no-man's land, facing my sure-to-come death. And I was definitely curious.

"I – I – I –" I couldn't find what to say, or the side of the 'feeling' to go with, so I went for stating the obvious: "I didn't see you there."

He gave me a quizzical look and reached past to take the crackers from Simon. When he started to retreat, Simon grabbed the back of his shirt.

"We're still teaching him manners," he said to me. "Derek, Chloe. Chloe, my brother, Derek."

"Brother?" I said, curiosity winning over the other emotions.

"Yeah." Derek's voice was a low rumble. "Identical twins."

"He's my foster brother," Simon said. "So I was just about to tell Chloe –"

"We're done here?" Derek said.

Simon waived him away, then rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Anyway, I was just going to say welcome –"

"Simon?" Tori's voice echoed through the kitchen. "Aha. I thought I heard you." Her fingers closed around the pantry door. "You and Derek, always raiding the –"

She spotted me and her eyes narrowed. Mine did, too.

"Tori?" Simon said.

"Her expression flopped from simmering to simpering. "Yes?"

"He jabbed his finger at the dining room door. "Shhh!"

As she babbled apologies, I graciously accepted the opportunity to leave.

I met the last housemate, Peter, over lunch. He said hello, asked how things were going, then turned his attention to his PSP as he ate. Like everything else at Lyle House, it was all very normal. Too normal. Every time someone moved, I tensed, waiting for her to start speaking in tongues or screaming about bugs crawling up his plate. No one did.

Since everyone else seemed to be occupied with something or other, Simon tried to play host. I knew he was just being polite – including the new girl in conversation – but if Tori had been a cartoon character, smoke would have billowed from her ears. So when I told Simon, after he asked, that I go to A. R. Gurney High, Tori decided that she was welcome into the conversation.

"Art school," she breathed. "Isn't that just _fascinating_. Tell me Chloe. What do you study there? How To Attack Your Teachers, Hallucinations 101, Control Your Inner You?"

I choked on a chunk of meat.

"Oh." Tori turned her Doe eyes on Simon. "Didn't Chloe tell you why she's here? She _hears_ and _smells_ things and she can't control her actions."

When I looked up. Derek's fork was half way up to his mouth, green eyes piercing the curtain of hair as he stared at me, his mouth slightly gaping, as if to say, as if he was astonished with the length some people would go to get attention. The problem was I wasn't doing this for attention.

The other problem was the searing headache which clouded my thoughts. The vibration that I felt when I first met Simon came back, only stronger and I was suddenly aware of my expression. I was glaring. And from the looks the others gave me – wide-eyed and taken-aback - I would say that that was the scariest glare that I could have possibly mustered up in all of my fifteen years.

"Stop being such a bitch, Tori." The words tumbled out of my mouth, surprising us all.

Tori froze, mouth open – but only for a moment. Her eyes filled with rage and her face became flooded with blood. She looked like she was swelling up - a red balloon ready to burst.

"Someone's PMSing," Derek grumbled.

I shot him a look, receiving one back. As Tori started yelling her long list of profanities, I decided that my room seemed much more inviting than the atmosphere in this room. Before anyone could stop me, I got up from my chair and left.

I was hurrying up the stairs when Miss Van Dop stopped me. Instead of letting me be by myself, she sent me downstairs to help Rae with the laundry, telling me that "bedrooms are for sleeping." Miss Van Dop definitely did not come off as caring; otherwise, she would know that isolation was the best remedy for me at the moment. The last thing I want to do right now is go talk to someone, especially since I have little control over what I say.

As I walked down the hall and into the basement, I thought about how much I was changing. If someone accused me of being a crazy drama queen a week ago, I would have died of embarrassment. Currently, I couldn't care less.

My train of thought, however, was interrupted by an acrid smell. Only two steps down from the first floor, and could already smell smoke. It seemed a bit too strong for cigarette smoke, but that was the only explanation I could come up with. I stepped quietly down the rest of the stairs, slightly admiring how well the basement was made. The stairs didn't make any eerie creaks, or at least I couldn't hear it over the washing machine, and the passage was brightly lit.

Once I stepped into the laundry room, I could see the washer and dryer, an old recliner, and a bunch of shelves. No Rae. No fire. Yet the smell was still there. It seemed to coming from my right, and as I turned, I saw Rae squeezed between two towers of shelves.

Her lips formed a silent oath as she shook her hand, putting out a match, I looked for a cigarette. There wasn't one – just a smouldering match.

I wasn't sure what to think, but Rae didn't give me much time. Afraid that I might go tell on her, she tried to explain her 'thing' with fire. What I got from it was that she was obsessed with fire. She didn't do anything dangerous though. It was more of a fascination, one she had to keep secret since that's exactly why she's here. If the nurses found out that she wasn't getting any better and still played with fire, she might get transferred somewhere else. Somewhere not as pleasant and cheery.

Then Mrs. Talbot came and whisked Rae away to her classes, leaving me to finish with the laundry and alone with my thoughts.

Rae seemed to be nice enough and I was happy that I was able to make a friend even in my slightly pissy state. And thinking about my mood swings made me think back to Derek's remark. PMS. As rude as it was to say, I realized that there may actually be some truth to that short statement.

As everything seemed to click into place, I felt the weight lift off of my shoulders. I really wasn't going crazy. It was just the hormones messing with my head. That's why I was changing. I was maturing. And since I was already fifteen, I guess I had some catching up to do.

I wasn't crazy. I just had to bide my time, wait for the two weeks to be over, and I'd be out of here, back to my normal life.

* * *

**A/N: So, how was it? I hope you guys liked it. I was being constantly reminded to post by a friend of mine (hi, Alexa) and I would have posted this yesterday if my friends didn't show up at my house (without an invitation) and dragged me to the local park. I got my payback though... I kicked their butts at sandman =P.**

**On another note, I bought The Reckoning today. I AM SOOO EXCITED!! But I can't read it, cuz then I'll forget about everything else and I have an important test coming up (I'll still read it though, no self control what so ever, already 10 chapters in).**

**Oh, and just some food for thought... if Chloe was a werewold or a vampire, wouldn't Derek smell it?**

**Now, I have a question for the reviewers, what do you think about the way Chloe acts now? Do you like it, or is it too different and hard to swallow? Do tell!**

**Thanks!!**


	8. The Cold

**A/N: Chapter 7 "The Cold" is here, compared to my last update, this one was quick. Yay. I was going for a certain mood in this chapter, so don't be surprized if it's monotone. R&R. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Darkest Power series, K.A. does.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Folding the laundry really helped me clear my mind and soothe the headache. The pleasant scent of the fabric softener radiated from the clean clothes and I tried to breathe in as much of it as I could – without sniffing others' clothes.

With a calm, clear head, I tried to get accustomed to my current surroundings. The laundry room had a tile floor, an old recliner, a washer and dryer and lots of cupboards and shelves, and was as bright as any other part of the house. Across from the entrance was another door. My eyes kept drifting toward it no matter how hard I tried to focus on sorting through the underwear – only girls' – left in the pile of clean clothes.

I sensed a weird vibe coming from the other side. _Curiosity killed the cat_, said the small voice in my head. Another part of me, however, longed to see what's behind that door.

What a classic movie scene: _the helpless blond finds a closed door and just _has_ to see what's behind it._

I tried not to think about what happens after she opens the door because the headache started to creep in again.

It was silly and I knew it. That door probably belonged to a closet and nothing more. What else could they possibly have in the basement of an overly-cheery group home?

The question made me imagine padded walls and labs where they would lead the uncooperative houseguests to deal with them in a different way. I shuddered from the thought. I have obviously seen too many horror movies, and now I couldn't concentrate on the laundry anymore. The door stole all my attention.

And that's when it hit me. There was an easy way to clear away all of my unease. I just had to open the door.

I took a couple slow, ginger steps in its direction. My head buzzed louder and louder, but I ignored it. I reached the door in four quick strides and grasped the doorknob. The cool metal sent a chill down my spine.

Great, now I was being paranoid. I took a deep breath to steady myself and realized where the unease was coming from. It was the faintest odour – of what, I did not know – but, it made me feel uncomfortable. It was mixed with the musky scent of dirt and was almost impossible to pick out.

I slowly turned the doorknob, it went a quarter way, then stopped. I jiggled it. Nothing.

The door was locked.

_Calm down_, I told myself, this doesn't mean anything. Maybe that was the storage room and the nurses didn't want us messing with anything. Or maybe –

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps heading down to the basement. At first, I thought it was Mrs. Talbot checking up on me again, but after I got hit with that jumble of feelings only one person gave me in this entire house, I knew it wasn't.

Hand still on the knob; I turned my head toward the open doorway right before Derek strode into the room. He seemed surprised to find me here, but quickly recovered. Hands in his pockets, his gaze pierced mine as he crossed the room to stand in front of me.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Huh."

I still wandered about the door – and Derek – but decided not to show it and leave it for later investigation. "Now if you'll excuse me..." When he didn't budge, I tried to sidestep around him. He moved into my path.

"Did you hear me walk down here just now?" he said.

"Was I not supposed to?" I said, feeling defiant. "Do you think I'm deaf or something? No offence, Derek, but I don`t think you have the lightest and most nimble feet."

"Huh."

I rolled my eyes at his sad excuse for a response. I thought about trying to push him out of the way, but seeing how the top of my head didn't even reach his chin, I decided otherwise.

"What else do you hear, Chloe?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah."

I chewed on my lip and lifted on my tiptoes, he bent down to listen.

His being so close to me made my head go wild and my irrational side took over.

"Get out of my way," I heard myself say as I gave the living wall a good shove, and to my amazement, it worked. He staggered back but caught himself quickly. He lifted his eyes to mine and his lips twitched. I steeled myself, then I realized he was smiling, laughing at me.

He stepped aside. I swept past him to the stairs.

***

That afternoon, I had my first meeting with Dr. Gill. She seemed nice enough and listened carefully, a mix between my two previous therapists. Yet, I didn't seem to be able to let my guard down. I tried to seem calm. It worked, but only because a numbness was setting inside my head.

We talked about how I`d slept; what I was eating; what I thought about the others; and, mostly, how I felt about being here. I remembered about biding my time, and lied about the last. If I wanted to get out, I couldn`t moan that I didn`t belong or complain that someone made a horrible mistake.

I told her that I knew my dad and Aunt Lauren made the right choice by putting me in Lyle House, and that I was determined to get better, whatever it took.

This seemed to relax Dr. Gill, and that`s when she mentioned something that caught my attention: bipolar disorder. I already knew that people who were bipolar had violent mood swings, but as Dr. Gill explained, there was more to it than I thought.

She said that I seemed to exhibit periods of mania – abnormally irritated mood and energy levels. Extreme enough, these episodes can sometimes lead to hallucinations and delusions. That explained my vision in the hall and my senses going crazy. Dr. Gill said I didn't seem to get periods of depression, but it didn't matter much. Experiencing mania and hypomania – milder episodes of mania - was enough to diagnose my condition; one that would probably stick with me for most of my life.

This seemed to be happening too suddenly for me to believe in. How could I be fine one day and hallucinating, fighting with teachers the next? When I looked at Dr. Gill, though, I knew that if I asked, there would be an answer; no point in arguing, better to pretend I agreed than sound in denial and stay locked up.

So I nodded. "I just want to get better."

"Good, then we'll begin."

***

Dr. Gill explained about the medication. It was supposed to stop the mood swings. She assured me that by the time I left Lyle House, taking the pills would be no different than taking daily cold medication. That's what she compared the bipolar disorder to; a long-term cold, one that should eventually go away.

She talked more about the daily sessions that we were going to have from now on, where we would talk about how I felt and whether or not I was on the path to getting better. Finally, the conversation reached the topic of privacy. Dr. Gill told me that my condition wasn't going to be announced to the other inhabitants and that if at any moment I felt pressured, I should tell either her or one of the nurses.

I thought about telling her about Tori. It wasn't smart to start my stay at Lyle House by tattling, but I didn't really care. So I told her all about it, trying to make my face look as innocent as possible. She was outraged by what I had said and promised she would handle it, as discreetly as she could, all whilst apologizing. I put my brave face on, and told her I could deal with it, it wasn't the end of the world.

As much as bipolar disorder seemed to fit the bill, I didn't believe I had it. I knew I didn't have it. Call it intuition, but I just knew. However, I still hoped the meds would reduce the sense craze and hyperawareness.

***

After my session, I ducked into the media room to think. I curled up on the sofa, trying to sort through all of the information, which wasn't so hard. I stopped noticing the ever-present buzzing inside my head, which helped a lot. Simon came in not long after and attempted to be nice again, trying to give me advice about 'moping around'. No matter how much he smiled, it slightly irritated me– blame it on the mania.

Derek walked up behind his brother. Simon had a quick word with him, saying that he was just talking to me for a minute. Derek looked in and was as expressionless as ever. Simon said he'd go talk to Mrs. Talbot so that she'd disarm the door, inviting me to play soccer with them afterward.

Derek stayed and watched me.

I watched him.

We stayed like that for some time; he stared as though I was a freak, I stared because I was trying to figure out the weird connection that I had with him. Then Derek finally left, taking with him the answers that I longed for.

***

When I left the media room, the other kids were back in their classes. Mrs. Talbot set me up with peeling potatoes – not much of a change since the last chore I'd done for her.

She gave me another pill and I wandered when they would work. Maybe they were working, I felt calm –but that could still be the numbness – almost back to normal, no hallucinations. There were just small things, like my hyperawareness, left over from the mania – or whatever it was.

A scream echoed through the house.

As it turned out, Liz threw a pencil at the teacher, Mrs. Wang. She wasn't admitting it, but that didn't say much. She was in this house for a reason, after all. Miss Van Dop tried to calm Mrs. Wang, who claimed Liz needed professional help – isn't that the purpose of Lyle House?

A shadow gilded past me and I turned to see Derek at my shoulder. The emotions didn't hit me that hard this time, even though he stood so close to me. As he looked down on me, I expected some sarcastic remark about eavesdropping, but it didn't come. He only murmured, "Welcome to the madhouse," barely loud enough for me to hear and brushed past into the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N: How was it... good? Hope so. I must thank all of you guys for your wonderful reviews and advice, they make my day. Now, i have a couple of things to discuss:**

**1. You all seemed to be confused about what Chloe is... GOOD!**

**2. Sandman is a game played on playgrounds (with the slides and monkey bars and all that stuff) by kids usually 7-12 years old. It's still fun no matter how old you are, though.**

**3. Like I've previously mentioned, this chapter had a boring feel to it on purpose ( the beginning should've been pretty good though). Why? Who knows.**

**4. Since this is the beginning of the part where the story sort of starts to get off track (it wont be completely different though), I want you guys to complain about anything that you think is messed up/wrong.**

**That's it, thanks for reading!!**


	9. Block

**A/N: IT HAS BEEN SO LOOOOOOOOOONG! I am soooooooo sorry, you have no idea. I felt so bad not writing anything, and I could make up excuses but I won't.**

**So, here's the next chapter: " Block "**

**Chapter 8**

The chaos was closely followed by the calm. Everything went back to normal - almost. There were no more emotional outbreaks. Everyone silently went on with what they were doing and the nurses sequestered themselves in Dr. Gill's office, not to be disturbed. Instead of the usual somewhat cheery atmosphere, the house was on pins and needles.

Dinner time came and Mrs. Talbot served us the food. Liz came downstairs, wan and quiet. Everyone tried to make her feel batter, engaging her into conversation, trying to take her mind off of the previous event. Only Derek and I ate dinner with out uttering a word.

The only plus that I got from Liz's incident is it cleared away most of the fog from my head. As picked at the food on my plate, the last of the fog seeped away, unearthing my strong awareness of Derek. I still wasn't sure why he always managed to steal my attention, but I blamed in on natural instincts. _Self-preservation_ instincts. Derek was, simply – and slightly rudely – put, a goliath. One that my inner being, my unconscious mind, felt weary about. Yet this 'unconscious mind' of mine also hinted at the fact that it wasn't true, or at least, not _completely_ true. And I knew it. Of the feelings Derek evoke from me, fear and weariness were only the tip of the iceberg. The rest were still a jumble.

I snapped out of my little reverie and came back to the diner table. Nothing has changed. Everyone still looked just as worried and nervous. Except for Derek, that is. He wasn't even paying attention to whatever was going in. He has obviously found a more interesting object for observation. Me.

He wasn't outright staring at like before. This time, it was more of a series of curios glances from the corner of his eye. Did he notice that I was out of it for a minute? Maybe he thought I was hallucinating. I couldn't tell. I tried to discreetly watch his face – a difficult task since he was doing the same thing. Yet his face didn't give anything away.

When he realized what I was doing, he slightly furrowed his brows and looked away. He never looked at me again during the meal, but the little furrow in his brows stuck to his face. I, at least, was given the satisfaction of knowing that he had a hard time figuring me out, as well.

After dinner, I volunteered to help Rae with folding the rest of the laundry. When we were in the privacy of her and Tori's room, she asked me for the details.

So I told her.

I knew that I needed someone to talk to. Rashelle, seemingly the least judgmental person in this whole house, was right here. I told her about everything: the barking, the voices, the crying, the buzzing, the confusion, the smells, the vision and bipolar disorder. She listened to it all with interrupting, which I greatly appreciated. I hadn't thought that having this conversation would help me as much, but it did. A giant, metaphorical, lead block was off my chest.

When I finished, Rae didn't get up and run out of the room, scared of the crazy girl with whom she has spent almost the entire day. She just sat there, ready to finally have the chance to express her opinion on the matter at hand. That fact alone told me she didn't seem to think I was crazy – and I was grateful for it. I received further encouragement after actually hearing what she had to say. She mostly criticized the doctors at Lyle House for their quick-to-judge and stick-on-labels ways, seeming completely unfazed by the disorder I had. Once again, I was grateful.

As we matched up the rest of the socks, our conversation took an unexpected turn: Simon and Derek. Rae, just mentioning the name, struck my interests. Finally my thirst for knowledge would be somewhat quenched – or so I thought. What Rae had told me was mostly information that I already knew or would eventually figure out during my stay at Lyle House. But I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth – I was happy that someone shared what they knew about Derek with me, regardless of value.

As it turns out, Derek gets more session time with Dr. Gill than anyone else; whereas Simon never gets any at all. When they can, the two of them hole up in their room, trying to stay away from everyone else. They never get visitors. No one knew what they were in for, either, but Rae clearly expressed her desire to find out. But, I wasn't going to read anyone's personal files anytime soon, so with that, we left the room with the clean, folded and sorted laundry to go watch the movie that Liz picked out for movie night.

**A/N: It's not much, but at least its something! I promise to you guys that I'm not dropping this fanfic. I love writing it, I just didn't have much time lately. I sincerely apologize to those whom I have misled into believing that I wouldn't continue this and for not writing for a month. I hope it satisfies you for now.**

**P.S I have NO IDEA what to do for the next chapter.**


	10. Desperate

**A/N: Here's another one for you: "Desperate". I tried to be quick about it. I'll explain some stuff at the end.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Darkest Powers series.**

**Chapter 9**

I'm not too keen on romantic comedies. It might be like a guy admitting to not liking car chases, but Rae nodded off a few times, too, so I guessed this wouldn't have been her choice either.

I stayed awake by deconstructing the screen play, which was all too predictable anyway. So when it was time to go to bed, I had reason to be relieved. This long, long day has finally come to an end. After pulling on my pajamas – which were getting a little short – I settled into bed. Yet, before I could completely float away to dreamland, I was snatched back by a frantic voice.

"Chloe? Chloe?"

It took me some time to get back to my senses. My mind was uncooperative sludge. So when I opened my eyes, I was mildly surprised to find Liz leaning over me. Her hand kept trembling even after she stopped shaking my arm. Anxiety rolled off of her along with the smell of toothpaste.

I raised myself up on my elbows. "What's wrong?"

"I've wanted to ask you, trying to find a way that won't sound weird. But I can't. I just can't!"

She backed away, her face becoming paler. I briefly wandered what time it was since the darkness of the night was fading from the room.

I sat up. "Liz?"

"They're going to send me away. Everyone knows it, that's why they're being so nice. But I don't want to go. They'll lock me up and–" Her hands cupped her mouth and at that moment she looked so desperate, so on-edge. I even thought I heard her heart flutter in her chest." I know you haven't been here long, but you're the only one that I can do this with right now."

I lowered my feet from the bed to the floor and sat facing her. "What do you want me to do?"

"Thank you! Thank you!" She dropped on her knees and pulled a bag out from under her bed. "I'm not completely sure what we need, but I've done one of these at a sleepover last year. I just need someone to do it with me. "

Dread spread through me like butter spreads on a hot pan. "Do what, Liz?"

"A séance, of course."

If I still had any sleep fog in me, that last phrase had completely evaporated it. Was this a joke, some terrible prank that Liz and Tori came up with because of my tendency to hear voices? "I'm not some ghost whisperer, Liz." I said soberly, looking directly in her eyes.

I didn't know if it was possible, but Liz's eyes widened even more. "No, no, no. You don't understand. I know you don't speak with ghosts, but I need someone. I can't do this by myself, Chloe. I'm scared." She barely whispered the last two words, but her fragility had no effect on me. I was tired and upset. The past couple of days were a little short of hell and now _this_? What was she even scared _of_?

It wouldn't hurt to ask. "Why?"

She looked at the objects in her hands – glass and a candle – and the answer came out reluctantly. "Every time I get mad, things start flying. I don't do anything, but I always get blamed. It's the poltergeist; he's trying to protect me. I have to contact him. Ask him to stop. He never listens when it's just me. So I though, if someone helped me, we could persuade him together." She kept looking at her hands, afraid of my reaction – a very good choice.

I was completely dumb struck. Did I just hear right? She wanted _me_to help contact a _poltergeist -_ as though I wasn't having enough mental problems already!

I may have seen a movie about poltergeist activity once. I won't deny that it creeped me out into almost believing in it, but wasn't this going a bit too far?

"You don't believe me," she whispered.

I stayed silent. There wasn't anything I could say to her.

"You don't _believe_ me!" she rose to her knees, finally turning her gaze to mine.

I was taken aback by the blaze in her eyes. In this very moment, the desperate, meek girl in front of me had transformed into a still desperate, but now enraged girl – the latter looking much more threatening than the former. Alarms had started to go off in my head. That little inner voice of mine told me to proceed with caution; the person with whom I was stuck in this room was dangerous.

"Okay, Liz. Calm down." I tried to slowly get up.

When I moved, the shampoo bottles behind her rocked. Empty hangers clattered in the closet.

I ignored it, kept moving, now taking a step toward her. "It's okay, I understand." I reached out with my hand, but she stepped away.

"No! You _don't_!"

She slammed her hands down. The bottles jetted into the air, slamming into the ceiling hard enough to splatter their contents all around the room. She brought her hands up again. The pictures on the wall started falling down one-by-one, the glass shattering all over the floor. Some of the pieces embedded themselves in my legs. One of the picture frames, however, decided to aim for me rather than the floor.

"No!" Liz cried.

I dove out of the way just as it struck the air where my head had been not two seconds ago.

I didn't know what was happening, but something told me it wasn't a poltergeist, but if she thought it was, maybe if she thought this séance would make it stop, it really WOULD stop.

"Okay. Get the candle and we'll–"

The door burst open. Mrs. Talbot stood in the doorway. Her hand reached for the light switch. She flipped on the light.

Her eyes slowly swept the room.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "Elizabeth. What have you done?"

**______________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
A/N: This one is short, too. Sorry. I know you guys want the ChloexDerek parts. No joke, I was thinking of letting Liz live and doing something completely different (focusing the drama on Chloe and Derek a.k.a the part where Chloe realizes that she's not 'normal') for this chapter, but I realized that I wasn't far enough into the story. That part will come (it has to! I want to write it so bad!), just after some of the events that need to happen before it – which I will need to change to match the story [sigh]. But I promise that it will come soon, since I need to cut away some chunks of the original book (all the ghost conversations and research about – well – ghosts). So, in about 4-6 chapters, I would not be surprised if there was something *cool*. Prepare yourselves! And again, thanks for reading and for your lovely suggestions. =]**


	11. Nosy

**A/N: Phew! *wipes sweat from forehead* Chapter 10 "Nosy" is ready. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Darkest Powers.**

**........................................................................................................................................**

**Chapter 10**

After Liz was taken away on the stretcher by the paramedics, I realized that I had a headache that was overlooked during the commotion. I lied to the nurses ant told them I was fine. Mrs. Van Dop still insisted I should take some more of my meds. I gave in, but hid the pill under my tongue. I've been fine since morning – no voices, no visions.

I had a theory; this whole thing came from built up stress and hormones, just like this headache, nothing else. I had to try it out. I would wait and see how everything is without the pills. If the disorder comes back, I'll take the medicine. With any luck, I was already taking the return trip back to sanity.

I wasn't allowed to go back to the bedroom before it was cleaned up. Instead, Mrs. Talbot led me to the living-room couch with a glass of milk. I was left alone in the soothing darkness with nothing but my thoughts.

It wasn't until the house was silent – except for the quiet bustling in my room – that I heard the low hum of voices from above me. I shot up, worried that I was imagining things again, but the more I listened, the more I recognized the voices, or at least ONE of them. That low grumbling was hard to confuse with any other person. It was Derek. He must've been talking with Simon; it was hard to tell from here. I didn't want to be nosy, but my ears were welcoming their chat. Soon, I was able to pick up parts of their conversation.

There was one word that caught my interest: _poltergeist_.

"–hold a séance for the poltergeist–" Derek's voice went in and out of range of my hearing. "Then Liz trashed the room–"

"Only–" It was a higher voice, Simon's "– didn't believe her about the poltergeist?"

"Guess so."

"Poor Chloe–" I couldn't hear this part. "–been scared out of–"

A Pause. Then I heard Derek say, "It sounded like she believed her at the end."

"Maybe it was just that she didn't want to anger Liz anymore than she already has. Who knows what would've happened if she didn't agree to the séance thing."

Derek grunted. I could've sworn I heard him turn over in bed.

Their conversation was over.

My mental frenzy had begun.

From what I could pick up, Derek knew exactly what had happened and was explaining it to Simon. How was that possible? Sure, he could have heard the loud crashes, but the details of our conversation? He couldn't have been outside or door since Mrs. Talbot would have seen him. It was possible he left before she came, but very unlikely. How was he able to hear all of this from the other side of the house?

The questions kept whirling around in my head until I heard footsteps. I pretended to sleep when Mrs. Talbot came to get me. My room was clean, but smelled of Liz's hair gel. I got in the bed and pulled the covers up to my neck. Sleep didn't come until what seemed like hours later.

.

I woke up groggy and dazed. It took a while for reality to come knocking on my door. I sat up and looked at Liz's bed. It was neatly made, no doubt by the nurses during the night. My roommate was nowhere in sight. She was gone.

Liz was now at a mental institution – a _real_ mental institution, nothing like Lyle House. I felt bad for her. The display that I saw last night was unexplainable, but Liz definitely wasn't crazy. Things _did_ move on their own when her emotions got out of hand.

Yet, no one cared about what had _actually_ happened. Everyone saw Liz as a mentally unstable, dangerous person, so she was locked away – a fate that I might share with her if I'm not careful.

I was still thinking it over as I came down for breakfast. Only Rae joined me. Tori was in her room and the nurses seemed content to leave her there.

The breakfast menu was the same as yesterday. I chose to eat cheerios since food was the last thing on my mind. I would eat them one cheerio at a time and the nurses couldn't argue, I was eating, after all. Yet, when I sat down at the table, bowl in front of me, a frenzied wolfing down began. I finished my half-filled bowl and got a second one, filled it to the brim this time. I ate it just as fast. I wouldn't have minded another one if Rae's skeptical looks didn't snap me out.

I've just devoured two bowls of cereal in a similar manner to Derek's.

.

I was gaining weight.

My clothes were _deffinately_ tighter. They hugged my body in every place possible. A normal fifteen year-old girl would have been devastated, but I could've sworn that my body seemed curvier.

I need to ask one of the nurses to call Aunt Lauren so she could buy me clothes in a bigger size.

.

Some instructions from my school have arrived, so after I showered and dresses in my now too-tight clothes, I headed off to class with Rae.

The nurses didn't make Tori go to class, or join in any other activities that day. She stayed in her room, but I guessed she was upset over Liz. With Tori absent, I was the only ninth grader. Peter was in eighth and everyone else in tenth. We all had a desk in the small classroom. We all worked on our separate things as Mrs. Wang walked around, helping each one of us individually. It was sort of like running a one-room schoolhouse.

I didn't get much work done that morning. The sight of Derek reminded me of what I had so carelessly forgotten. Somehow, he knew what happened yesterday. I wanted to know how.

The only thing that made me stop thinking about Derek was Liz, but thinking about her brought me unease which I felt in the pit of my stomach. To stop thinking about her, I thought about Derek.

My mind kept on going around in this vicious cycle as I watched the clock tick by, too slowly for my preference.

When it was finally time for a break, instead of aiding me in taking my mind off, Rae had to stay behind and get help with a worksheet. I left the room with a promise to bring back a snack for her.

"Hey. " Simon jogged up beside me. "You okay? You seem quiet this morning."

I shrugged and kept walking.

"Probably didn't get much sleep after last night, huh?"

_And whose fault was that?_

I both heard and felt Derek walk up behind us. He reached over me and grabbed the kitchen door for Simon. I ignored him.

Simon disappeared into the pantry. Derek stayed back in the kitchen, watching me. Studying me, again, with that intense look of his.

I stared back at him.

He reached for me, obviously wanting access to the fruit bowl which I was blocking. I stood rooted to the spot. He had to step around.

"So what happened last night?" He asked as he grabbed two apples with one hand.

"What's wrong? You seemed so much more _knowledgeable_ about it _last night_." I retorted.

For a moment, Derek's face was a dictionary picture definition of shock and disbelief. It was gone as fast as it came and the mask snapped back in place.

Simon stepped from the pantry, a box of granola bars in hand.

"You should have an apple," Derek said. "That's not–"

"I'm fine, bro." He looked at me. "It might help if you talk about."

He flipped one granola bar to Derek and held the box out for me. I took two: one for me, one for Rae. But I was hungrier than usual, so as I turned to leave, I did something unthinkable. I snatched an apple out of Derek's hand.

"Rae's waiting for me."

Simon stepped forward, raising a hand as if to stop me. Then he looked at Derek. I ignored the look that passed between them, but it made Simon pull back.

The door was swinging back behind me when I heard Simon whisper, "How did she know?"

I didn't bother staying back and listening to what they had to say. Mrs. Talbot's footsteps sounded down the hall. She was looking for Peter. His parents were here to pick him up. We had a little celebration party with low-fat frosting-free carrot cake. Then Rae, Simon and Derek went back to class; Peter and his parents went upstairs to pack his things; and I had my session with Dr. Gill.

Twenty minutes later, from her office window, I watched as his parents' minivan pulled out of the driveway.

**............................................................................................................................................................................................**

**A/N: How do guys like the names of my chapters? I find them incredibly silly.**

**So… I finally melted two chapters of the book together. It had to be done, or else the chapter would have been way too short. Hope you guys liked it. =]**

**Chloe is very special in this chapter, especially when she realizes her clothes are getting tight and she's eating too much. Don't kill me for it, I had my reasons.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and Chloe's new personality and abilities. Thanks for reading, don't forget to review (in detail, that would be sooo nice! =P).**


	12. History

**A/N: Sooooo, this chapter,"History", is kinda late, isnt it, well. Sorry. . **

**(Dislaimer: I don't own the Darkest Powers.)**

**Chapter 11 **

Since the tutor had not yet received my math notes, I had more free time after lunch. Math was also the class that Derek was sitting out the day before. It seems he had to do it again since as Ms. Wang gave another short lesson, he took his books out to the dining room. I guessed he was doing remedial work and needed the quiet. He went his way, and I went mine, to write an e-mail to Kari in the media room.

Mrs. Van Dop said that all I need to do is use the program that they have on the computer and click send. Now, I just need to write: hello, I'm okay, how's everything going, I should be back shortly. Click send, and instant contact – after Mrs. Van Dop enters the password, that is. A seemingly easy process.

But getting the words right took time. I couldn't tell Kari where I was, but I couldn't exclude the subject completely, or else she'd get curios and pry. The third version finally seemed vague but not like I was obviously avoiding anything. I was about to click send when I stopped.

If an e-mail was sent from this account, what would come up in the sender field? If it gave any information on where I'm staying, Kari might research it. I decided to see what would come up on Google if I searched for "Lyle House, Buffalo". As it turned out, Kari shouldn't get anything like "Lyle House, Mental Institution for Crazy Kids", but I wasn't taking a chance. If she couldn't find it on the web that didn't mean it wasn't in the phonebook.

I saved the e-mail as a word document with an obscure name, and then deleted the message. If I used a phone, I could block call display - I'd have to use one of the nurses'. I'd do that later, when Kari would be home from school.

I shut down the program and was about to get off the computer when I heard careful, quiet footsteps nearing the media room. I turned toward the doorway in time for Derek to walk in.

Once again, he was slightly surprised when he saw me, but his look turned smug, as though I've proven something to him.

"Whatcha doing?" He fixed me with a look.

"Nothing. I was about to sign off." I said turning back towards the computer. I could've done it the proper way, but judging from the speed of the computer, I decided that pressing the Power button would be a much faster way of turning it off.

When the screen went black, Derek was still standing near the doorway, analysing me.

"Well, if that's it, then, I'm gonna go." I stood up.

"Wait," he took a few strides and stood so close that I had to crane my neck to look at his face. "Tell me what happened." He was more serious now than ever before, expecting me to brake under pressure.

"I don't want to talk about it." I said as I stepped around him. "And anyway, you know enough to tell Simon about it, right?" I mumbled to myself - or so I thought.

I took a quick glance at him as I left, but whom I saw wasn't the same Derek as before. His green eyes overflowed with emotion and his face morphed into something barely human. The insides of my skull roared into action all at once, but too late. Derek's hand flew to my forearm, each finger gripping with great force. He yanked me back and I lost my footing, crashing on the floor when he let go.

_RUN!_ Echoed a voice in my head. _MOVE! RUN! GO!_

I had little time to think. I scrambled up and dashed from the room. I sprinted all the way upstairs into my bedroom, shut the door and leaned against it. Panting, I slid down until I sat on the floor, attempting to clear my mind.

I decided to focus on the present problem – my arm. I peeled off my sleeve. There were long red marks, one for each of Derek's steel fingers. I carefully examined them. The marks were already fading. I probed them with cautious fingers. The spot was a little sore. Judging by the strength of Derek's grip, I expected it to be much worse.

A rumbling started up in my head and I furrowed my brow - it felt like I was being driven to take some sort of action. As minor as the damage was, I _couldn't_ let Derek think that he can push me around. I had to do something.

_We'd handle this_, the voice told me. _But to handle it, we needed to know exactly what we're up against._

I took Rae aside.

"Do you still want to see Simon and Derek's files?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Then I'll help you get them. Tonight."

Bed time at Lyle House was nine, with the lights out and no-talking rule coming into effect an hour later when the nurses retired.

Each side of the upper level had a bedroom for its assigned nurse, with a door between the two rooms, linking the boys' and girls' areas.

Taking Miss Van Dop into account, Rae and I decided an early break-in would be too risky. Rae set the alarm on her sports watch to 2:30 and we went to sleep.

At 2:30 the house was still and silent. Too still and too silent. The anticipation put my senses into hyper drive as Rae and I made our way down to the kitchen. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like a gunshot, amplified along with every other sound.

In the kitchen, we took two juice boxes and set them on the counter. I then went over to the pantry and turned on the light, returning to the hall after leaving both doors half-open.

Dr. Gill's office was at the west end of the hall, near the boys' stairs. Rae had checked out the lock a week ago. It was only a regular interior household lock, not much tougher than the kind you can pick with a coin. I took advantage of the sensitivity of my hearing as she picked the lock, trying hard to listen to any movements upstairs.

Rae went in alone as I guarded the door, still listening. The sounds of the file cabinet drawers opening were bearable but the scanner made me cringe.

I took a peek inside the office; Rae was already returning the papers to the cabinet, copies made. I let out the breath that I was holding as she passed me two sheets, folded in half.

We backed out of the room as I heard a third set of lungs breathe at the top of the boys' staircase. _Derek_.

I grabbed Rae and frantically pulled her towards the kitchen, hearing the creaking of the stairs as Derek followed. We darted into the kitchen, then the open pantry, Rae's bare feet loudly smacking the floor.

"Come on," I stage-whispered. "Just pick something already."

"I can't find the Rice Krispie bars. They were here last week," Rae played along.

"The guys probably… "I stopped. "Someone's coming. Quick, get the light!"

She flipped the switch as I closed the door all but a crack and watched as Derek strode into the kitchen. His gaze slowly swept the room and came to rest on the pantry door.

I pushed it open and stepped out.

"Oh. It's just you," I said, letting out a huge, _fake_ sigh of relief. "Cracker?" I held up the box.

He looked at me and, in a flash, I was back in the media room, sailing through the air. The insides of my head began to grumble and my façade fell away. I stopped smiling and, instead, shut my eyes, quickly shoving the box of crackers in his hands.

"I'll get the juice," I said, briskly walking past him. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and the low rumble intensified. Derek's glare could've burned a hole straight through my skull, that is, if it still hadn't split from the headache.

"We were just getting a snack," Rae said.

I grabbed the juice and walked over to Rae, handing her one of the boxes. Through the pain I managed a small smile at Derek. His expression, however, told me that my clever plan wasn't working. Derek didn't buy any of it.

I stepped forward, Rae following behind.

As I passed, he took a cracker sleeve from the box and held it out. "You forgot these."

"Right. Thanks."

I took one and fled into the hall. Unwilling to turn back and check, instead, the loud, smacking footsteps behind me told me Rae was coming. Another pair of footsteps, quieter this time, meant that Derek followed us out. But his footsteps went a different way, towards the boys' side, stopping before he reached the stairs. As I turned to go up the girls' staircase, I allowed myself a glance down the hall. Derek stood outside of Dr. Gill's office, looking at the door.

For safety measures, Rae and I decided to lie in bed with the lights out for fifteen minutes. Long enough for Derek to either tell the nurses on us or go back to bed. As I lay, I heard the all-too-familiar distant shuffling, that I recognized as Derek, downstairs. Several minutes later I heard the sound of Derek's feet on the other side of the hallway and the opening and closing of a door. No voices told me that Derek decided to not tattle on, for now, at least.

My fingers kept fidgeting with the papers I stuffed in my waist band, which was too tight and cut into my hips. I was tempted to take them out and start reading. Even though it was night and all the lights were out, I could see just fine. I decided it was too risky – I could've been wrong about Derek. Any minute one of the nurses might burst through the door and catch me red-handed. The papers I had on me were all the proof they would need to send Rae and me away.

Finally, when the house went back into its silent trance, Rae scooted over to my bed, unnecessarily bringing a flashlight with her.

"That was a close call," she said.

I nodded.

"He was getting a snack himself. He wouldn't dare tattle."

So Derek had just happened to get up for a snack while we were breaking into Dr. Gill's office? I hated coincidence, but surely the printer hadn't made enough noise for him to hear it upstairs – I hoped. Then again, I probably would have heard it; however, my hearing seems to be more acute than anyone else's. I had to check, just in case.

"Hey, Rae?" I whispered, sitting up on the bed. "When did you hear that somebody was coming?"

"Uh. After you grabbed me, when the stairs started creaking. Speaking of which, I don't know how _you_ heard him so fast," she gave me an incredulous look.

"I was concentrating really hard, that's probably why." I gave her a half-hearted excuse.

Rae's observation only confirmed what I had already believed. However, I had more urgent matter to attend to, for the moment. I'd save this piece of information for a later time. With that thought, I pulled out the folded sheets and opened them in one swift movement, laying them on the mattress.

"That's Derek's," Rae whispered as she turned on the flashlight.

I tugged the second sheet out. "You want Simon's?"

She shook her head. "That's Derek's second page. There wasn't one for Simon."

"You couldn't find it?"

"No. There _wasn't_ one. The dividers in the drawer are marked with our names. Then the file folders are marked again. There wasn't a divider _or_ a file for Simon."

"That's–"

"Weird, I know. I figure they keep it someplace else. You wanted Derek's so I didn't waste time looking for Simon's. Now, let me see what Frankenstein's in for." She moved the beam to the top of the page. "Derek Souza, birthdate, blah, blah, blah."

I thought I heard some sort of movement in the house, like someone was shifting in bed. I held my hand out to Rae. She stopped moving, too. I waited for a couple of minutes. My ears were only met with silence.

"Sorry, I thought I heard something." I motioned for Rae to go on.

She exhaled, muttering, "You and your crazy sound locators." Rae shone the light to the next section. "Huh, he was brought to Lyle House by a children's services agency. No mention of the father they're always talking about. Since the agency's involved, I'm guessing he's no dad of the year. Oh, here it is. Diagnosis… antisocial personality disorder." She snorted a laugh. "Yeah? Tell me something I didn't know. Is that really an illness? Being rude? What kind of meds do they give you for that?"

"Whatever it is,, they aren't working." I thought I heard more shifting, but I rode it off as someone having a restless sleep.

Rae didn't seem to hear it. She grinned at my remark. "Yeah, no wonder he's been–"the rest of her sentence was trumped by footsteps on the other side of my wall.

"Someone's coming," I whispered.

I heard a door open and the hallway light clicked on. Rae dove for her bed, leaving the flashlight behind. I turned it off as the bathroom door closed. When I made a motion to toss it to her, she shook her head, then leaned out and whispered, "You finish up. Find anything interesting? Tell me in the morning."

The person that was in the bathroom – I guessed it was Tori, since our bedrooms shared the wall – seemed to take forever. By the time the toilet flushed, Rae was asleep. I waited a few minutes after I heard Tori get in bed, then turned on the flashlight and read.

With each sentence, the buzzing in my head grew. Antisocial personality disorder had nothing to do with being rude. It meant someone who showed a complete disregard for others, who lacked the ability to empathise. The disorder was characterized by a violent temper and fits of rage, which only made it worse. If you didn't understand you were hurting someone, what would make you stop?

I flipped to the second page, labeled "background".

What I read put me into a state of unease. Some phrases stood out from the rest on the paper.

"…no birth certificate… came to live with SB at approximately five years of age… refused to share the details of his life before this… may have been raised in an institutional setting… behavioural problems began in seventh grade… sullen… bouts of misplaces anger… violent outbursts… schoolyard fight… violently attacked three youths… chemically fuelled rage… extraordinary strength… one youth had suffered spinal fractures… may never walk again."

The page continued, but the words vanished, and all I could see was the floor whipping past as Derek flung me across the media room. The buzzing turned into grumbling.

Why hadn't someone warned me?

Why wasn't he locked up?

They'd taken Liz away for throwing pencils and hair gel bottles, and they kept Derek? A huge guy with a history of violent rages?

_Your history isn't all that clean, either._

That shut me up.

**A/N: I expect a whole bunch of "FINALY!"s in the reviews. **

**I'm sorry. I worked on this chapter for a very long time (its actually 2 chapters together... yay!) or, i had the document open for a very long time. I was procrastinating on finishing it, but today, I sat down and said to myself, "JUST DO IT, DAMMIT!" So, I did. Hope all of you enjoy. **

**I dont know when the next chapter is coming out, maybe soon (hopefully), maybe not. *sigh* **


	13. Smile

**A/N: So, aren't you proud I updated this fast? I called this one "Smile" for obvious reasons.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...**

**.**

**Chapter 12**

Every time I drifted off, I'd get stuck in that weird place between sleep and waking, where my mind sifted through memories, twisting them and confusing them. I watched as a tall, bulky, black-haired teen grabbed a blonde girl and threw her across the room. Sometimes, I was in her body, sometimes, I was a bystander. Sometimes, instead of the girl being thrown across the room, she would twist around the teens arm, swinging her body back at him. Her face would no longer be scared. Rather, it would be the mask of a skilful attacker. A sickening crack would sound and the arm of the boy would be bent in an unnatural way. She'd bring her hand, twisted into a claw, down across his face and blood would splatter from his wounds. She'd then let him crumple to the ground and turn her face in my direction. A feral smile would take over her blood-splattered face, showing canines that could easily be the envy of all lions. The smile was not unlike the one that I felt was on my own face. Then I'd see the same girl, only much younger, hurdling herself onto another girl. Her face would instinctively sink to the base of the older girl's throat to deliver as much damage as she could. Then the girl would be a teen again. She'd be in a classroom, her hands flailing at those trying to restrain her, tearing through clothes and skin. Then I'd wake up in a hospital to the sounds of adults arguing. I'd see Mom through the window of the door, a desperate expression on her face–

I was startled out of my sleep by the wake-up rap that came at the door. My breathing was shallow and a thin sheen of sweat covered me from head to toe. I buried my face in my pillow as Mrs. Talbot opened the door.

"Chloe?" The nurse leaned into the room. "You need to get dressed before you come down today." She waited for some kind of response from me. I lifted my head and peeked at her through my hair.

"Your aunt is coming at eight to take you out to breakfast. You need to be ready for her."

I nodded and watched as Mrs. Talbot shut the door.

.

When I went downstairs, Aunt Lauren was already waiting for me. She smiled at me and opened her arms. I smiled back and hugged her.

"Oh, honey! I missed you," she breathed into my hair.

"Me too," I said.

Aunt Lauren ushered me out of the house and into her car. The familiar upholstery made me relax and feel almost like I was back to normal. It made me feel as though this was one of the regular mornings when Aunt Lauren took me out to breakfast, before the syndrome and Lyle House and _Derek_.

We drove in silence. Aunt Lauren kept on glancing at me, trying to read me. She obviously wanted to make me feel better, even though she seemed unsure of what to do. I didn't want to make her worry, so I smiled at her. She took her right hand off the steering wheel and placed it on top mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.

She turned into the busy parking lot of a small diner, managing to find a spot relatively close to the entrance. A waitress led us to an empty booth, all the while smiling and giving us the menu, asking what we would like to drink. When she left, Aunt Lauren put her menu down and looked me.

"You grew," she said smiling. "I told you you'd get that growth spurt."

I nodded my head, still reading the long, laminated sheet of the restaurant's breakfast selection.

"I've bought you new clothes. I can see you barely fit in your old ones," she said, still looking at me.

"Thanks," I said. She was right; I was wearing my Abercrombie&Fitch sweat pants and a long-sleeve that always seemed a little bit big on me. Now, they fit me like a glove – if not a glove that was a size too small.

"I have the bag in the car. I'll give it to one of the nurses when we get back."

The waitress came then, asking for our orders. Aunt Lauren ordered her usual: scrambled eggs with a side of bacon. I deliberated between the special of the day and the pancakes, deciding on getting them both. Aunt Lauren seemed surprised by my decision, but she wasn't about to disagree with me.

"At least now we know why you need new clothes." Aunt Lauren tried to put an end to the silence that followed the waitress's leave, chuckling quietly.

I looked at the table and waited for my food to arrive.

.

"I have something for you." Aunt Lauren reached into her purse and pulled out a sandwich bag. Inside was my ruby necklace. "The nurses called and told me you were missing it. I've already spoken to them. They've agreed to let you have it."

"Thanks."

"Make sure you wear it, though. We don't want it going missing again.

I took the necklace out of the bag and put it on. I knew it was silly superstition, but it made me feel better. Reassured, I guess. A reminder of Mom and something I've been wearing for so many years that I had felt a little odd without it.

"I can't believe your father left it at the hospital," she said, shaking her head.

My father called me on Aunt Lauren's cell, telling me he had to leave for Shanghai. She was furious, but I didn't see how it mattered. I'd rather him be there when I got out of the house, and he already arranged to take a month off then.

My aunt talked about her plans for a "girls' New York trip" when I was released. I wanted to tell her that I'd rather not, but I didn't have the heart for it. I just wanted my life to go back to normal, or as close to it as possible.

"So how are you adjusting? Getting along with other kids?"

Her words brought me back to my earlier worries. The dream flitted through my mind along with, well, Derek. He seemed to always be at the centre of my attention in one way or another.

She was smiling, the question meant as a joke. As I looked up, her smile faded.

"Chloe?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there a problem with the other kids?"

I smiled, the smile portraying no joy whatsoever.

"What happened?" Her hand gripped her fork and knife as if ready to wield them against whoever was responsible.

"It's noth–"

"Don't tell me it's nothing. When I asked you about the other kids you looked as though you were tortured."

"There's just this one. I can handle it."

"Who is it? You have enough to worry about right now. You're at that home to rest, and if someone's bothering you, you need to tell me." She released her death grip on the cutlery, set them down, and smoothed her place mat. "Tell me who this boy is and I'll make sure he doesn't bother you anymore."

"He won't–"

"Which one? There are three – no, only two now. It's the big boy, isn't it? I saw him this morning. I tried to introduce myself, but he walked away. Darren, Damian. . ."

"I can handle him." I was slightly surprised bythe confidence that surged from me, backing up my statement. I was briefly reminded of my dream. The smile that the girl had on her face, as she took the boy down, crept onto mine.

"What did he do to you Chloe?" She sounded breathless. "Did he touch you?"

My smile widened at my Aunts overactive mind. I leaned back into the faux-leather padding of the seat, took a look at the empty plates that littered my side of the table and tilted my head back. It visibly frustrated my aunt – her little niece that was always so kind, so honest, and so easy to read did a complete one-eighty in under a week.

.

When I returned, Tori was back. She followed Rae and me the whole morning, making rude comments and getting on both of our nerves. Rae caved when Tori made a comment about her parents.

She shoved Tori into the wall. Tori let out an ear shattering shriek.

"She _burned_ me!" she said, clutching her shoulder.

"I _pushed_ you."

Mrs. Wang hurried from the classroom, followed by Simon and Derek, who'd stayed behind to discuss an assignment.

"Rae burned me. She has matches or something. Look, look. . ." Tori pulled down the collar of her T-shirt.

"Leave your clothes on, Tori," Simon said, raising his hands to his eyes. "Please."

Derek let out a low grumble that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Rae held up her hands. "No matches, no lighters, nothing's up my sleeve. . ."

"I see a very faint red mark, Tori, from being pushed," Ms. Wang said.

"She burned me! I felt it! She's hiding matches again. Search her. _Do_ something."

I was the first one to 'do something', as Tori so desired.

I turned and walked away.

**. **

**A/N: Well, Yes, this one's shorter than the last chapter. I thought that was a nice ending, so I didn't melt it with another. Did you notice that I changed stuf? Cuz I did. =D**

**_On another note: _Chloe will freak out soon, As in, the same day soon. IDK if it will be in the next chapter or the one after, but you get my drift (I will try, try, try to update soon, once again, no promisses) SO BE PREPARED!.**

**_On yet another note:_ someone guessed my plot. Like... practically down _to the point. _It wasn't just 'I think Chloe is going to be a ...' It was more like 'She's a ... because... and ... and... and... " I was like... WHO TOLD YOU? LMAO Luckily, that UBER SMART(you know who you are ;]) person had 2 ideas, and I didn't tell them which one it was. So... they still dont know exactly what she is. I'm trying to keep that a secret for now. As time goes by, her 'supernatural race' will beecome more apparent, but I wont reveal the exact and complete details utill quite some time from now.**

**_On a FINAL note:_ I will, once again, thank all of my readers and reviewers. I love all of you. And to the ones that cower away from that 'Review this Chapter' button. I promise you no one will jump out to bite you if you click it and leave me a quick review.**


	14. Bad Mood

**A/N: Another quick update. . . YAY! Here's the next chapter "Bad Mood". The title says it all. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: KA owns the DPs, not me.**

**.**

**C****hapter 13**

Throughout the first class of the day, I mildly wondered whether Miss Van Dop or Dr. Gill would stride in through the door of the classroom and yank Derek out for a 'conference'. Aunt Lauren was very stubborn, after all. I'd heard her conversation with Mrs. Talbot when we got back to the house earlier. She pulled her to the side, asking to discuss my progress. Of course, I heard what they were really talking about.

"If he even so much as touches my niece again I will go straight to–"

"Lauren, calm down. We'll get this dealt with. After all, he's not all that different from your–"

"How dare you even _think_ to compare that creature with Chloe!"

And so the interrupting competition continued, with several other insults flying out of Aunt Lauren's mouth. I wasn't in a good mood myself, nor was I particularly fond of Derek, but wasn't calling him a 'creature' going a bit too far? I smiled to myself as I thought about how cut-throat Aunt Lauren could get when she wanted something.

The door to the classroom, however, did not open until it was time for the break, with Tori's episode being the only bump in an otherwise quiet morning. The day went on as scheduled with no interruptions.

When it was time for lunch, I was standing in the hall, waiting to use the bathroom. Simon was inside, as he always was before a meal. What could I say; I guess the thought of food made him want to go pee.

I was considering running upstairs to use the girls' bathroom when Dr. Gill's door opened and Derek stepped out, finished with today's session. I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't _hear_ him getting bawled out by Dr. Gill. It was either I listen to their conversation or the sounds of Simon doing his business. As tempting as the latter was, I went with the former.

Our eyes met. A part of me awoke, trying to show him a glimpse of the murderous intent hidden away within me. He nodded, grunted something that sounded like "hi," and was about to brush past me when the bathroom door opened.

Simon walked out, head down, He saw me and shoved something into his back pocket. A faint coppery scent wafted into my nose, along with several other rather unpleasant ones. "Whoops. Guess I'm hogging the bathroom again, causing lines."

"Just Chloe." Derek pushed open the door for me. He didn't seem angry at all. Nicer than normal, even. My aunt handled it _fine_.

I went inside and closed the door. Simon and Derek exchanged several words before heading upstairs, no doubt to discuss what Dr. Gill had said.

.

After lunch, it was my turn to take out the trash. I wheeled the wagon out to the shed. If my bipolarism wasn't acting up, it would have seemed like a nice day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the smell of the freshly mowed lawn was almost strong enough to cover up the stench of the crap that tugged along behind me – altogether, a perfect day. However, my disorder _was_ acting up, and I _was_ in a bad mood. I knew I had a lot of things to think over, but at the moment, I just didn't _care_. I just wanted to get this over with as fast as I could.

I tugged the wagon behind the shed, ignoring the four year old Shirley Temple wannabe on the other side of the fence. At some point, a woman came, whisking the girl away, telling her not to go near the fence or the kids that lived here. Yup, we _are_ crazy, after all.

I was in the process of dumping the bags of trash out from the junk-on-wheels when I heard loud footsteps. The noisy walk and the stink of hair gel meant for one thing; Simon was probably coming to get all buddy-buddy with me again.

He strode toward me, his face darkened with anger. I looked at him with a mildly curious expression on my face - was I actually wrong?

"What did you say?" His words came slow, deliberate, as if struggling to keep his voice steady.

I had several other replies ready, but i decided to hold myself back on the smart-ass remarks. "Say?"

"To the nurses. About my brother. You accused him of something."

"As a matter of fact, _I_ didn't tell the nurses any–"

"Your aunt did, then." His fingers drummed against the shed. "You know what I'm talking about. You told her. She told the nurses, then Dr. Gill took Derek into a special conference before lunch and warned him not to bother you. If he does, they're sending him away."

Not like I didn't know this, I do have super hearing, after all. Nonetheless, I decided to act surprised - I just couldn't go around telling everyone I was practically Superman.

"A word from you, and he's gone. Transferred."

_Because dramatically repeating what you've just said will certainly intimidate me, right?_ I watched as a vein in his neck throbbed. This was starting to get entertaining.

"He's been _perfect_ since he got here. Now, all of a sudden, after one problem with you, he's been put on a notice. If he so much as _looks_ at you funny, he's gone."

_Now you're just being melodramatic_, I thought to myself.

"Something happened with you two last night, didn't it? Derek came upstairs completely freaked out. Said he was talking to you and screwed up. That's all he'd tell me."

So Derek regretted his actions. That's a nice tho–

No, I need to stop thinking like this. If it keeps going, I'll come off as bad as Tor–

Trying to reason with myself didn't help much. So I stopped dumping trash onto Simon's feet, faced him and closed my eyes.

I took several deep breaths. When I opened my eyes again, Simon still stood there, awaiting explanation. I couldn't tell him that instead of telling my aunt about what Derek did, I told her I'd take care of him all mafia-style, now could I? So I opted for the next best thing.

"It was hot in the restaurant." I told him.

"What?"

"I rolled up my sleeves." I gave him a grim look. "That night, Derek grabbed me by my arm and threw me across the room. Do you know what marks get left behind from such brutal force?"

Simon stood dumbstruck, gaping at my sudden intensity.

"My aunt wanted to know what happened. When I didn't tell her, she tricked me into admitting it was a boy. She met Derek this morning and he was rude, so she decided it had to be him, I never confirmed it. If he's in trouble, it's _not_ my fault. I had every right to tell someone, and I didn't." I mentally gave myself a pat on the back - I managed to tell the story without lying.

"I'm sure he didn't _mean_ to. If you saw how freaked out he was last night, you'd know that."

I turned my head to the left of Simon's, attempting to gaze through the shed. "So it makes it okay?" I spoke slowly, moving my stare closer and closer toward Simon. "If I lose my temper and ri– _smack_ you, it's alright, because I didn't mean to, didn't _plan_ to."

Simon thought I was still speaking to him. "You don't understand. He just–"

"She's right." Derek's voice preceded him around the corner.

When he came into view, that same part of me stirred. The part that wanted to make sure that the only flying I'll ever do will be in an airplane. The part that wanted to pay him back, big time. I instinctively took a step back. As I did, a look passed through Derek's eyes. Remorse? Guilt? Whatever it was, it made almost all of the anger and overall foulness drain out of me. Yet, almost as soon as it came, he blinked it away.

He stopped behind Simon's shoulder, at least five feet from me.

"I wanted to talk to you last night. When you tried to leave, I pulled you back and. . ." He trailed off, gaze shunting to the side.

I should really get some sort of award for mixed feelings. Maybe there's a Guinness World Record section for confused people. I would definitely fit on that list. First, I'm scared of the guy, then I feel like ripping him to pieces, and when he shows a bit of regret I'm ready to _forgive_ him and am left _speechless_?

Why did my head start functioning _now_?

Of course Derek didn't mean to hurdle me across the room, the same way I didn't mean to beat up my teachers and possibly push a certain living wall. I didn't even get one bruise from the instance. I mentioned to Simon that a person lifted into the air and thrown over any distance _should_ get bruises – never actually saying that I _have_ bruises.

My next words surprised us all. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Simon was dumbstruck, again.

Derek scrutinized my face. "Why are _you_ sorry?"

"Like Simon said, because of me, you might get kicked–"

"It's not your fault, Chloe," Simon interrupted. "Derek shouldn't have done what he did. But it's not his fault, either. He's superstrong and–"

"And you weren't wearing your kryptonite necklace," Derek said. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Yeah, I got big. I got big fast. Maybe I don't know my own strength yet."

That reminds me–

Simon had to interrupt my mental train. "That's not–"

"No excuse, like you said. You want me to stay away from you? Wish granted." These two really need to learn how to let people finish.

"Derek, tell her–"

"Drop it, okay? Let's go before someone catches me with her."

"Chloe!" Mrs. Talbot's voice rang through the yard.

"Perfect timing," Derek muttered. "Must have ESP."

"Just a second," I called back, moving to the side so she could see.

"Go on," Derek said when the back door banged shut. "You don't want to miss your meds."

It's funny what Derek does to me. I get him in trouble; he's as sad as a lost puppy. I try to be nice; he nips me on my hand. Because of him, I've gone full circle in my attitude.

I glowered, then turned away, circling wide around them as I started for the door. Simon muttered something under his breath, only it wasn't in English. It sounded as though it was an ancient language of some sort.

Smoke rose in my path. I stumbled back. It hovered over the ground like a low patch of fog.

"Simon!" Derek hissed.

"What did you just do?" I rounded on Simon. "I heard you whisper something in another language and then . . . What is that?" I said, pointing at the fog.

"You're imagining things again, Chloe," Derek said coldly. "Hearing voices, seeing things – you're hallucinating."

"That's not–"

"It's nothing, Chloe." He pushed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Just your imagination, like everything else. Now run along and take your meds. Don't worry; I'll stay out of your way from now on. Seems I made a mistake. A _big_ mistake."

He meant he misjudged me. That I wasn't worthy of his interest. My fists clenched.

"Watch it Chloe. You wouldn't want to hit me. Then _I'd_ have to tattle on _you_.

Simon stepped forward. "Cut it out, Derek–"

"Why don't you go now? You already have something on me. Did you forget that time when I pushed you?" I gave Derek a pointed look.

He gave me another bitter smile as I strode to the wagon and grabbed the handle. I gave it a tug, but the old thing was rusting, the wheels getting stuck on a regular basis.

"Here," Simon called. "I'll take that."

I picked the wagon up and lifted it with both my arms in front of me. It was faster this way. I turned to see both Simon's and Derek's eyes slightly widen. Derek caught himself first. I gave him a smile that mirrored his and strode for the house.

Half way there, I remembered something that Derek said. I paused.

"Hey, Superman," I whispered under my breath. "Next time you want someone to fight for you, choose someone other than flower-boy. He switches sides too quickly."

And I marched on, perfectly satisfied with the sharp intake of breath that escaped a certain someone's mouth.

.

**A/N: Did you guys like it? Chloe is quite hormonal, isn't she? I love her like thins, though. I had so many funny comments that I wanted to add, but I decided that enough was enough; Chloe can't be too much of a goof, or else she'll turn in to Tori 0.o**

**next chapter = freak out chapter? IDK, maybe.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, I've passed 100, and I am sooooooo happy. You guys are way too kind. *cough* KEEP IT UP! =P**

**_Certain people that I have to thank:_ jacee4, Raised. In . Abuse, Moon-Lover1994, xXGhOstXx, Emmoria, nemadragon31, DABIH, NYgirl390, What story will I fall into, Crytsalpath, WolfGirl.1989, Silverbird121, TheWritingOnTheWall, Guess, sam, JeannaMaria7, jessi, animefreak77610, amethyst1221, Nikki, WhisperedWords12, DPlover234, Creativewriter202, Vamplover1996, Hi!, MorbidMandy, Blue Bananana, Alice-the-irish-dancer, lj pettit, senrii, adv. reader , DoriSquishy, MyDarkHeart, anonymous person who didn't put their name down, jr bandler, Tasting Raindrops, wolf lover, emilymurphy, Levina101, Sunshine. Roses , ChLeReK4ever, werewolf girl8907. . . . . . YOU GUYS ROCK FOR GETTING ME 100 REVEIWS!**

**I hope I didn't miss anyone, THANKS GUYS! (And dont think that I don't notice the people that review every chapter, because I love you especially)**

**I've already started on the next chapter, but I'm not that far in. I also don't expect to have any time to work on it this weekend. I'll try, though.**


	15. The Tap

**A/N: Long time, eh? Well, this chapter is super long, too. Enjoy!**

**Disclamer: I am not kelley Armstrong, Darkest Powers are not my books.**

**.**

**Chapter 14**

**"The Tap"**

The day continued as any other day would. Tori tried to stir me up, I had class, helped Rae move the remaining photos from her old room to mine, and had another session with Dr. Gill – all whilst Derek and Simon stayed far away.

It wasn't until Rae and I were doing our homework in the media room that I finally let my mind go over the previous occurrences of the day. I knew I had to be rational and go into this with a clear head. I was already relatively calm – having all the bitterness knocked out of me before my daily performance in front of the therapist. I cleared my head and started where everything seems to start from – _Derek_

Derek seems to be my counterpart - another Superman, so to say. He, like Simon said, is in fact superstrong and, as I have recently discovered, he can hear as well as I do. There is a reason behind Derek's abilities; Simon's reactions told me as much. Derek made sure to flaunt this in my face right before smacking the 'Top Secret' stamp on it. The same happened when Simon demonstrated his _craftiness_ by providing me with a patch of fog. Derek clearly indicated that it wasn't my imagination by making a show of refusing to believe that anything was there.

Something was definitely going on.

Or at least, that's what Derek led me to believe.

He wanted me to drive myself nuts with the questions and come crawling on my knees to him, begging for answers. As much as it would pain me to do this, I didn't want to rule out any possibilities just yet.

Rae finished her homework faster than I did – she didn't have to burden herself with trying to figure out these supernatural mysteries.

"Want me to hang back?" She offered to stay while I finish what was left from the English assignment.

I waved her off. "It won't take me much longer. Go, have fun."

She looked at me and laughed. I realized what she thought was so funny: the thought of "fun" in Lyle House. I laughed along with her.

When she finished with her chuckle, she looked at me devilishly and said, "Well, I do have a comic book that's just _itching_ to be read . . . for the tenth time." We shared another laugh and with that, she was off to our room.

.

Dinner time came and went, bringing with it a new face.

As we were clearing the table, Mrs. Talbot came in to the dining room with a man she introduced as Dr. Davidoff, the head of the board that ran Lyle House. What that told me was that Dr. Davidoff was another person that I had to suck up to, big time.

Tall, middle aged and balding, with a big nose, and always hunched down to hear better, Dr. Davidoff reminded me of a vulture. His observing, beady eyes looked around the room and finally came to settle on his new prey – me. I felt a great unease when our eyes met. I tried not to show it as his smile widened and he came closer.

"And this must be our little Chloe Saunders," he beamed with false-heartiness. He looked me up and down, as the smell of cheap cologne penetrated my nose. "Why, you're not all that little, are you? I heard you were going through a growth spurt. Who knows how much more you'll grow!" He awkwardly clapped me on the back.

Rae rolled her eyes from behind him and stepped next to me. "Hey, Dr. D."

"Rachelle. Oh, sorry, _Rae_, right? Are you keeping out of trouble?"

She flashed a perky smile, one custom made for adults she had to kiss up to. "Always, Dr. D."

"That's my girl. Now, Chloe," his vulture stare came back to me as he continued, "Dr. Gill tells me she is quite impressed with your progress and how quickly you've fit in with your therapeutic routine and accepted your diagnosis."

I tried not to squirm. He meant well, but being a good patient wasn't something that I want to be publicly congratulated on. Especially when Derek had stopped eating to watch. Or, at least, that was part of it. There was something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Luckily, my agitation had gone unnoticed and Dr. Davidoff continued. "Normally, I don't meet with our young people until they've been here at least a week, but since you're speeding right along, Chloe, I don't want to hold you back. I'm sure you're eager to get back to your friends and school as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir." I tried my best and mustered up a smile that could give Rae a run for her money, ignoring Derek's heavy gaze.

"Come along then, and we'll chat in Dr. Gill's office."

He put his hand on my shoulder to propel me out.

Tori stepped in front of us. "Hello, Dr. Davidoff. That new medicine you have me on is working great. I'm really doing well."

"That's good, Victoria."

He absently patted her arm, then lead me out.

The session was similar to the first one I'd had with Dr. Gill, filling in background. Who was Chloe Saunders? What had happened to her? How did she feel about it?

I'm sure he could've gotten this from Dr. Gill's notes, but it's not the information that's important, but how I tell it. What's my emotional reaction? What extra details did I add this time? What did I leave out?

For all his false heartiness, Dr. Davidoff was Dr. Gill's supervisor, meaning he was here to check her work.

Dr. Gill sat stiff the whole time, racing away to catch my every word, every gesture. Dr. Davidoff, on the other hand, seemed relaxed. He decided to take it slow, getting a coffee for himself and a juice box for me, chatting me up before we started.

When he asked whether I'd had any hallucinations since I'd been here, I said yes, I'd heard something the second morning. I didn't mention all the other times that I've been hearing things, only because I knew that they weren't hallucinations.

I sailed through the session without a hitch. At the end, he told me I was doing "fine, just fine," patted me on the back and lead me out of the office.

.

As I passed the open media room door, I glanced inside. Derek was on the computer, his back to me as he played what looked like a war strategy game.

I didn't notice that Simon was in the room until he shifted on the recliner. He straightened from his sprawled-sideways position, looking my way, lips parting as if ready to call after me. It seemed Derek hadn't shared my 'flower-boy' comment with his brother, yet.

Speak of the devil, or rather, the devil spoke. "If you're going for a snack, grab me a Coke." Derek said, attention fixed on the screen. "You know where they're hidden."

Simon paused, gaze shunting between us. His brother was giving him the perfect excuse to sneak and talk to me, but he still hesitated, as if sensing a setup or a test. There would be no way any regular person in Derek's position could have known I was here. Derek, however, was no regular person. Simon slouched in his chair.

"You want a Coke, get it yourself."

"I didn't ask you to get–"

I didn't bother to stay and listen to the rest of their squabble; rather, I tuned it out to the best of my abilities. I continued down the hall, thinking how one day, when I get out of this place, I should anonymously send Simon a baby pear tree in a pot. A note attached to the pot would read, "Grow a pair."

.

After I finished helping Rae with emptying the dishwasher, I excused myself and went upstairs to my room. Next to my bed was a large, square, black paper bag, full of what I guessed were my new clothes.

With a smile on my face, I practically skipped to it. I wasn't one to care much about clothes, but the thought of finally being able to comfortably fit into something brightened my mood tenfold. I picked up the bag and carelessly dumped its contents on my bed: t-shirts, hoodies, jeans, sweatpants, and pyjamas, along with another, much smaller bag. The latter was the first thing I picked up. Gingerly opening it, I peered into the bag.

Inside were new bras and panties.

After staring at the bras for a minute, I reached in and pulled one out. The tag indicated that it was two sizes larger than what I normally wear. Curiosity flooded my mind. I placed the bra on my chest, over my shirt. It seemed a bit big, but not overly so. My smile broadened.

I spent the next little while trying on my new clothes, Rae joining me in the room half way through. All of the articles were brand name, brand new, with the tags still on. The clothes were a bit loose on me with room to grow, a nice change from the overly tight ones I had. Once satisfied with my new acquires, I made a mental note to _really_ thank Aunt Lauren next time I see her, pulled on a new pair of pyjamas, put away everything else and happily settled into bed.

.

I began to come to my senses in a brightly lit, windowless, white room. My head hurt and I couldn't think straight, as though a heavy fog had set in my brain. I tried to slowly look around. I was on a bed that was twice as long as I was tall, with plastic guard rails on either side. Some equipment stood near the walls. I seemed to be hooked up to it. There was a door with a small window in it. Through it I could see my mom. Her back was turned to me as she argued. The sound of the argument helped lift the fog, but the headache remained. I tried to listen through the pain; Mom's voice filled my ears.

"–taking her back home. There's no need for her to stay here."

"But what if this situation repeats? We can't have Chloe go around, killing whomever she wishes," said a woman who's voice I didn't recognise.

"It _won't_ happen. I can take care of her. Give her a chance. If anything goes wrong, I'll . . . personally bring her to you."

Silence. They seemed to be deliberating.

"Alright." Another voice, a man's. "But before we let her go, we still need to do a couple of tests."

I couldn't wait anymore, I grabbed the wires that were attached to my body and pulled them off. A long, constant high-pitched sound filled the room. Everyone outside of the door turned.

In a matter of seconds, the room was filled with many adults. My mom rushed to me, but a tall man with a big nose and glasses held out his arm to stop her.

"Chloe, calm down," he said.

Everyone except for my mom and the tall man came closer to me, encircling the bed. I pushed myself back, closer to the wall. My eyes shot from one face to another, heartbeat rising. I was scared of these people. Something told me to get away from them as far as possible. I couldn't let them come near me. I couldn't let them touch me.

My head felt as though it was ready to burst and a sort of tingling began in my mouth and my hands. I heard a low rumble which I realized was coming from my throat.

"Chloe, please." My head snapped towards Mom, who was watching me with a pained expression. "You have to stop." The red receded from my vision.

"Mommy." My voice sounded like a little girl's.

That's when they came at me.

Several adults began to push me down to the bed.

My arms and legs began thrashing wildly in their grip. Loud snarls erupted from my mouth as I tried to break out of the holds. I managed to free one arm when I felt a sting on my thigh. I continued to thrash, but my attempts went unnoticed as all of the strength began to drain out of my body. The fog seemed to set back in place, thickening with every passing second. I could no longer move and it seemed impossible to even open my eyes. It was too much work to stay awake. I drifted off while my insides still screamed at me to fight.

.

I bolted up in bed, wildly inhaling a breath as though I just surfaced out of the water. My eyes darted around the room. It was dark, night time. The room was symmetrical with a bed, dresser and tiny desk on either side. The inhabitant of the other bed inhabitant seemed to be sleeping soundly, her breathing slow and even, dark curls spilled over her pillow. _Rae_.

I heaved a sigh when I realized that it was only a dream. Only it still seemed so _real_, like a distant memory freshly uncovered. That was impossible, though. If this dream were real, that would mean that my previous dreams and the hallucination I had at school were real, too. As unimaginable as that seemed, a part of me felt the dread that came with the realization. If this wasn't a dream, that meant that there was something wrong with me – something much worse than a measly mood disorder.

"–one of us." Simon's voice suddenly came in focus.

"It seems like it. But then, what is she?" A lower voice, Derek's.

"I don't know. You said she can hear well. . ."

"Yeah, she can hear well. She heard me talk under my breath _and_ our conversation the night Liz was sent off. . . She also pushed me hard enough to send me stumbling."

Simon began to chuckle. "But she's so small, are you sure you didn't just coincidentally _trip_ at the same time?"

A pause. "Yeah, I'm sure. And she's not so small anymore. I swear she grew three inches in just four days, and that's not the only place where she grew, either. That's not normal. Even I didn't grow that fast."

Another pause, then Simon said, "You know, now that you mention it, she does seem like you in that way . . . you know, _developing_ fast and what not. Do you think, maybe–"

"No. Can't be. I'd smell her."

"She smells normal?"

Derek hesitated. "I don't know. It's weird. She doesn't smell like me, but . . . she doesn't smell normal, either. I can't tell what it is."

I don't think I could possibly be any more confused. I couldn't wait anymore. I needed answers.

It was knee-crawling time, only I would do it my way.

I got out of bed and stood still, with my eyes closed, trying to concentrate on all my surroundings using the other senses. I tried to picture my abilities as a tap. In my mind, I saw it slowly open. I pushed more, until I felt sounds and smells rush into me like water gushing into a bathtub.

I slowly opened my eyes. The room around me was almost completely drained of its cheery colours. With the colours, the darkness left as well. Every object in the room seemed as clear to me as if it were day.

I took a cautious step toward the door, followed by another, and another, until I reached it. I put my hand on the doorknob, pausing for a moment and glancing at Rae. When I decided it was all clear, I squeezed the cold metal in my hand and turned it. Opening the door just enough for me to fit through, I stepped out, closing it right behind me. I could still turn back now, but a part of me pushed for this. I walked to the staircase, placing one hand on the rail. I inhaled a long breath and stepped down. The cool wood made no sound under my feet as I continued down the stairs.

In front of the boys' stair case, I closed my eyes again, concentrating on being completely silent. I mildly wondered how I would find Derek's room. That is, until I picked up his smell. It felt like an almost tangible string – something that I could almost see and feel when I opened my eyes. Momentarily, I was amazed by the feeling. I shook it off as I began to climb the stairs.

The door which seemed to contain the biggest concentration of Derek's smell stood in front of me. The two boys no longer spoke to each other; instead, all I could hear from beyond the door were soft breaths. I took one of my own and lifted a hand to the door, carefully rapping my knuckles on it.

There was no immediate reaction other than a stirring in bed.

"Simon!" I heard Derek's voice, an urgent whisper.

I knocked again, listening for disturbances in the nurses' room. Instead, I heard a bed creak beyond the door in front of me and shuffling footsteps approaching.

Several things told me it was Simon: the noise as he walked, the smell, and the tired, yawning face that popped out when he opened the door. I stood, unmoving, evenly gazing at his face. He seemed to have a double take, incredulous about my sudden appearance, right before he closed the door in my face.

"It's Chloe," he whispered to Derek. "And her _eyes_, they're _glowing_."

A short pause, I guess derek was trying to tell Simon what to do, without talking.

The door opened yet again.

"What are you doing here?" Asked Simon.

"I heard you . . . before," I said steadily. "You know something that concerns me. I'd like you to tell me."

"Chloe," He seemed uncertain. "It's night. You should go back."

I pushed the door open and walked in.

**.**

**A/N: Oooooh. That's how Chloe does her knee-crawling. **

**I decided that was a good place to end the chapter. I actually wanted to end it earlier, but I promissed a freak out, so I did a mini one. It's my longest chapter yet. I hope all of you are satisfied. I did my best and I wanted her to freak out and I wanted her to show more of her power but I knew she shouldn't. Not yet, at least. **

**Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!**

**Also, as you review, I would like appreciate if you guys answered these questions:**

**1. Chloe and clothes...too much?**

**2. Dream sequence...did you like it? Did it make sense?**

**3. Chloe's relationship with Simon...how do you feel about it?**

**4. Chloe's relationship with Derek...same as above.**

**Answering these will help me make the story better for you guys, so please do!.**

**Thanks again. C=**


	16. Behind Closed Doors

**A/N: Ah, this chapter is even longer than the previous one! Oh, and _PLZ READ THE BOTTOM A/N_. With out further ado here's Chapter 15 "Behind Closed Doors"**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing when it comes to the rights of The Darkest Powers.**

**.**

**Chapter 15**

The door swung open, knocking Simon off balance.

He fell to the ground with a loud thud, followed by a yelp. I stood momentarily frozen on the spot, until I heard a stirring from a room down the hall. My body worked on its own as I grabbed the door knob, whispering an urgent "get to bed," and shut the door. I turned, quietly running to the staircase. I lithely hopped onto the banister and slid down, landing like a cat at the bottom and taking all the impact into my bent legs so as to not make a sound.

A door opened and the light turned on in the boys' hallway. I rushed to the shadows, slowly and carefully making my way towards the girls' stairs. As I made my way up to my room, I heard Mrs. Talbot ask the boys what happened.

"Oh. . . Uh. . . I kinda. . ." Simon was taking too long; the nurse would surely figure out that something was–

"Simon, could you stop being embarrassed and get on with it. I'm tired, you know," Derek grumbled. "He fell out of bed."

My hand was already turning the door knob to my room when I heard Mrs. Talbot sigh and ask Simon if he hurt himself. He shook her off with a laugh.

I slipped inside and closed the door, wasting no time and getting into bed right away. Rae moved in her bed. My eyes darted to her. She seemed to still be asleep.

I settled comfortably under the covers, allowing my thoughts to finally come off of this mysterious autopilot and take flight.

Derek saved me.

He could've just told the truth, but he didn't. He covered for me. Now I owed him.

Thanks to Simon's balancing skills, whatever plan I had for getting my answers tonight was completely foiled. I now had to think up of a different time where I could corner and, if I had to, shake the answers out of them. This was something very important, something that I _had_ to know.

I spent the rest of the night trying to figure out the best way to approach this situation, until I finally drifted off.

.

The next morning, when I woke up, Rae looked at me expectantly and said, "Well, aren't you going to tell me why you snuck out this night?"

So she _had_ heard me.

"I didn't sneak out," I tried to play it off. "I just had to use the bathroom."

"Oh, please, Chloe."

I stayed silent, focussing on making my bed.

"Chloe, I've been noticing that you're somehow different from everyone else - you can hear better than anyone I know. Whatever it is, I'll believe you." She waited for some sort of a response from me. When she didn't receive any, she went on. "You can lie to _them_ if you want, but I thought we were friends."

She turned to the door and left for breakfast.

.

I attended the morning classes, all the while trying to find an opening and approach Derek and Simon. Derek seemed to be pretending as though nothing happened and stayed away, like his usual self. Simon, on the other hand, was no longer cheery around me. For the whole of the morning, he wouldn't even look me in the eye. I guessed his ego took a hit when he fell on his butt the last time I saw him.

When it was time for lunch, I was assigned lunch duty. I was setting the table, lost in my thoughts when the sound of quiet footsteps penetrated my ears.

"If you're trying to sneak, you're not doing a very good job," I said, mindlessly.

"I wasn't sneaking," Derek said as he stopped behind me. "But you do admit that you can hear me?"

I turned around and looked up. The top of my head almost brushed against his chin. I took a deep breath. This seemed like a good chance, which meant that it was knee-crawling time, and not the kind that I enjoy.

"Yes."

Finally receiving my submission, Derek allowed one side of his mouth to lift into a smirk. "You want answers."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

"Tonight. Eight. Our room. Tell Mrs. Talbot you'll be with me for math tutoring."

My brow furrowed. Was this going to be easier than I thought? Still, I was sceptical. "Your side is off-limits. They won't let me go."

"Just tell her it's for math tutoring. She's not gonna question it."

Because he had problems with math, I supposed.

"Alright."

"But, there is one . . . condition," Derek seemed to be weighing his words. "You have to promise that . . . from now on, you'll be . . . _friends_ with Simon."

Why he wanted me to be friends with Simon, I had no idea. I was willing to do almost anything to find out more about my abilities, though. Getting friendly with Derek's brother was definitely a small – nonetheless pesky – favour that I could handle.

"Deal."

.

Rae and I didn't speak all day. She wasn't nasty; Rae wasn't like that. She sat beside me in class and asked questions, but there was no chatter, no giggling or goofing off. Today we were classmates, not friends.

Before dinner, when we'd normally hang out or do homework together, she took her books, retreated to the dining room, and closed the door.

It was eating away at me. Having a friend made the stay at Lyle House a lot easier. Talking with Rae took my mind off of my worries. She was a person I thought I could rely on, but I wasn't sure if I should tell her about this.

I tried to find the voice inside of me that usually told me what to do in these situations, but this time, it was silent. I had to make this decision on my own.

After dinner, I followed her into the kitchen with dirty plates.

"It's my turn to do the laundry," I said. "Would you have a minute to show me how to use the machine?" I lowered my voice. "And I'd like to talk to you."

She shrugged. "Sure."

.

"That's why I didn't say anything." I said as she demonstrated the dials on the washer. "I didn't even notice it at first. And then finally, when I realized what I could do, I didn't know whether you'd believe me."

"Why? You have super senses. How cool is that?"

"Very." I dumped in the first load with a smile, and added soap.

"Whoa, whoa! You'll give this place a bubble carpet." She took the soap box from me and scooped some of the detergent back out of the machine. "If you can prove it, why not just tell them?"

A perfectly logical question, but at the thought, some deep-rooted instinct screamed _Don't tell! Never tell!_

"I don't want to tell anyone the truth. Not yet. Not here."

She nodded and set the box aside. "Gill is a pencil pusher with all the imagination of a thumbtack. She'd keep you locked up here until you stopped this 'ghost nonsense.' Better save the spooky stuff for when you get out."

We sorted a basket of laundry in silence, then she said, "So, can you hear what everyone in the house is doing right now?"

I smiled. "I try to tune it out most of the time. Right now I can only hear a bit better than you. But, if I concentrate . . . yeah." It was nice to know that she _really_ believed me.

Rae seemed to have no reaction other than more curiosity. "What about smells?"

"Same thing."

"Give an example, what do you smell?"

I stood still and closed my eyes, taking a long breath through my nose. "Well, there's the smell of the laundry, Tori's perfume trumps all the other smells. Then the smell of everyone that's been down here . . . then there's the strong scent of the detergent . . . I also smell," I took another whiff. "Something else."

I opened my eyes and looked in the direction of the odour. It was the locked door that I've tried to open the first time I was down here. I walked over to it and pressed one of my palms against its surface. I leaned it where the door meets the wall and inhaled through my nose again. Goose bumps began to sprout all across my back. "This smells . . . weird." I said to Rae.

"What do you mean?" she said as she walked over.

"I don't know. It smells stale, like old dirt and dust . . . but, there's something else, too. I can't tell what it is. This isn't the first time I've smelled it, either."

"Huh," was all that Rae said.

"Do you think we can try to open it?"

"This door? The _locked_ basement door?"

"Cliché, isn't it?"

Rae was already jiggling the door knob.

"So, you'll help me?"

"Duh, of course." She shoved at the door. "How can you live with the suspense?"

"I try not to think about it. And anyway, it's probably nothing important." That was only half true.

"Then why is it locked?"

I thought about it, trying to be rational. "Maybe because they have stuff in there that they don't want us messing with?" I didn't sound very convincing to myself.

"Yeah, like lawn furniture, winter bedding, Christmas decorations, bodies of Lyle House kids who never went home . . ."

I remembered Liz. The hair on the back of my neck rose.

"Jeez, I'm kidding."

Too late. The thought had already embedded itself into my mind.

Rae squatted in front of the lock, examining it. "Another crappy lock." She stood up and walked back over to the laundry shelves. "So easy a six-year-old with a credit card can pick it."

"Not many six-year olds have credit cards."

"I bet Tori did. That's who this house is made for. Rich kids whose only use for a credit card is to buy a new pair of Timbs. They stick cheap locks on the doors, knowing you guys will turn the handle and say 'huh, locked' and walk away."

I waited as she dug through some bins; lifting a sponge and dropping it back in. She finally seemed satisfied as she brandished a stiff piece of cardboard, a price tag from a new shirt.

"It's not perfect," she murmured as she slid it between the door and the frame. "But it'll–" She jiggled the cardboard and swore. "Or maybe it–"she swiped it down sharply, a ripping sound as it tore in half "–won't"

More curses.

"There's a piece caught . . . Here, let me."

I grabbed the edge between my fingernails, which would have been much easier if I had any. When I'd woken in the hospital, my nails have been filed to the pink, like they'd been worried I'd kill someone or commit suicide by scratching. I managed to get hold of the cardboard, pulled . . . and ripped out another chunk, leaving the rest wedged in where no nails, however long could reach it.

"Get the feeling someone doesn't want us going in there?" Rae said.

I continued to silently scrutinize the door. Ever since she's mentioned "bodies," there's been a sour taste in my mouth.

"We're going to need the key," she pronounced, straightening. "It might be on the key ring with the one for the shed in the kitchen."

"I'll get it."

.

When I slipped into the kitchen, Derek was pawing through the fruit basket. I stopped to think. Could he have been listening to what Rae and I were talking about? The door hadn't made any noise opening and he had his back to me. The perfect chance to practicemy new powers and sneak up on him. I knew it was going to be hard with his hearing, so I closed my eyes to concentrate. Unlike the last time I did this, I concentrated on erasing my presence so that nothing could give me away. I opened my eyes and took a deliberate step in his direction. Nothing happened. I took another, and another, and another, until only two inches separated our bodies. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding and lifted my hand to tap Derek on his shoulder blade as his breathing hitched and he whipped around. He bumped into the table and stared down at me with a hint of confusion and astonishment in his eyes. He collected himself quickly, though, putting his poker face back on.

"How did you . . .?" Derek asked as a smile sprouted on my face. He shook his head. "Never mind."

He strode over to the fridge, reached behind it and pulled off a magnetized set of keys.

"The key you're looking for isn't on that ring." He dropped the keys into my hand. "Try these." He walked past me to the kitchen door. "oh, and next time you try to secretly open a locked door, don't whale on it hard enough to bring down the whole house."

.

When I brought the keys downstairs, I didn't tell Rae that Derek knew what we were up to. She might have decided to abort the plan. Anyway, Derek wouldn't tell on us – that much I knew.

As Rae tried the keys, I rubbed the back of my neck, grimacing against the dull throb of a threatening headache. Was I really that anxious about what lay behind the door? I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake it off.

"Found it," she whispered.

She swung open the door to reveal . . .

An empty closet. Rae stepped inside. I followed. We were in a space so small, we could both barely fit.

"Okay," Rae said. "This is weird. Who builds a closet, doesn't put anything in it. Then locks it? There's gotta be a catch." She rapped on the wall. "Yow! It's concrete. Painted concrete. Scraped my knuckles good." She touched the adjoining walls. "I don't get it, where's the rest of the basement?"

The smell was definitely coming from the inside, though. I stepped out and motioned for Rae to do the same. I rolled my shoulders and rubbed my neck again.

"What's wrong?" Rae laid her hand on my arm, "God, girl, you're covered in goose bumps."

"Just a chill."

"Maybe it's a cold spot."

I nodded, but I didn't feel cold . . . Just anxious. Like a cat sensing a threat, its fur rising.

"You still smell something, don't you?"

I nodded again. "Give me a second."

I stepped right in front of the door opening, taking a long whiff. The smell was coming from the left side, blocked by the opened door. I stepped in and pulled the door forward to peek behind it. Rae squeezed in to get a look.

"Seems we missed something, huh?" she said, grinning.

Now, looking behind the door, there was a metal ladder fastened to that wall. It led up a few steps to a small wooden door halfway up the wall, the gray paint blending in with the concrete. I stepped onto the ladder. The door was secured only with a latch. One hard push and it swung open into darkness.

A musty stink billowed out.

_The smell of the mouldering dead._

Right. Like a knew what the dead smelled like. The only dead body I'd ever seen had been my mother's. She hadn't smelled dead. She smelled like Mom. I shook the memory off.

"I think it's a crawl space. Let me take a look."

"Hey," she plucked at the back of my shirt. "Not so fast. It looks awfully dark in there."

I turned my head and grinned. "I can see in the dark, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, maybe you can but I can't. See if there's a light switch."

I ran my hand over the floor. Damp, packed dirt. I felt along the wall. Nothing. I stuck my head in and looked around.

"A dirt crawl space." I said. "With no light switch. You'll need a flashlight, I saw one–"

"I know. My turn to get it."

.

When Rae got back, she spread her empty hands wide and said, "Okay, guess where I hid it."

She even turned around for me, but I could see no bulge big enough for a flashlight. With a grin, she reached down the front of her shirt into the middle of her bra, and pulled out a flashlight with flourish.

I laughed. If anything could take my mind off of the smell of rotting flesh, it was Rae's cleavage tricks.

"It's like an extra pocket," she said.

"Well, let's do this," I said and took my first good look inside. The crawl space had a low ceiling; with the dirt floor stretching for what I thought was the remaining area of the whole house. The cement ceiling was supported by several pillars. What caught my attention first, however, was the metal box to my left.

"There's a box," I said. "But I can't reach it from here."

I climbed the remaining two steps and crawled in. The space strongly stunk of dirt and stale air, as if no one had been there in years.

Waddling hunched over, I manoeuvred to the box. It was metal with the kind of lid that lifted off, like a gift box.

"Let me see," Rae whispered. She had climbed and was peering in, flashlight in hand. She turned it on and it the beam shone straight in my face. I hissed and whipped my head around in the other direction, raising a hand to block the light.

"Wow," she said. "You forgot to mention that your eyes glow."

"Sorry. Just shine the flashlight onto the box. It's on the floor in front of me," I said.

She did what I told her, removing the ray of light from my head and allowing me to ease out of my position. I looked back at the boxed, now engulfed in light. I turned it around, examining the perimeter of the lid. No sign of a lock.

"Well, open it," she said.

Kneeling, I sat back on my heels. My fingertips slid under the lid's rim.

"Come on, come on," Rae said.

The lid started coming off, then stopped. I jiggled it. One side came up, but the other caught. I slipped my fingertips around the edge, trying to find what it was catching on. It was a piece of paper.

I tugged, and the paper ripped, leaving me with a corner. There was handwriting on it. But only fragments of words. I found the part of the paper still stuck in the box and pulled, prying the lid with my other hand. One sharp tug, and the paper came free . . . and so did the lid, flying off and landing in my lap. Before I could think about whether I wanted to look, I WAS looking, staring straight down into the box.

"Papers?" Rae said.

"It looks like . . . files."

I reached into a folder marked _2002_ and pulled out a sheaf of papers. I read the first.

"Property taxes." I flipped through the other pages. "It's just records of stuff they needed to keep. They put them into a fireproof box and stored it here."

We spent the next ten minutes crawling around, finding nothing more than a dead mole that, up close, stunk so bad it nearly made me puke. At least I now knew I was right, that _was_ the smell of death.

"Let's go," I said, crouched on my heels. "There's nothing here, and it's freezing."

"Rae shone the flashlight into my face. I swatted it out of the way.

"No need to get snippy," Rae said. "I was just going to say it's not cold."

I took her hand and wrapped it around my arm. "I'm _cold_, alright. Those are goose bumps. Feel them?"

"I didn't say you weren't–"

"I'm going. Stay if you want."

I started crawling away. When Rae grabbed my foot, I yanked hard, almost toppling her over.

"What's with you?" she said.

I rubbed my arms. Tension strummed my nerves. My head felt as though it was getting pounded, my jaw ached, and I realized I was clenching my teeth.

"I just – I was okay before, but now . . . I just want to get out."

Rae crawled up beside me. "You're sweating too. Sweat and goose bumps. And your eyes are all glowing and glittery."

"Can we just –"

"There's something here, isn't there?"

"No, I –" I stopped and looked around. "Maybe, I don't know. It's just – I 'm getting a weird sense from this place. I dont like it. I need to go."

"Okay." She handed me the flashlight. "Lead the way."

"I don't need it –"

The moment my fingers touched the body of the flashlight, the light began to dim. Within seconds, it was giving off only a faint, yellowish glow.

"Tell me that's the batteries going," Rae whispered.

I pushed it back to her. The light surged, but only for a second. Then it went out. Rae let out an oath. A swish. Light flared. Rae's face glowed behind the match flame.

"Knew these things would come in handy one day," she said. "Now . . ."

She stopped, her gaze going to the flame. She stared at it like a child mesmerized by a campfire.

"Never mind that," I said. "I can still see–" A sound of approaching footsteps overhead stopped me.

"Someone's coming," I whispered. "The match!"

"Right."

She extinguished it. Not by waving it or blowing it, but by cupping the flame in her hand. Then she tossed the dead match and the match box over the shoulder.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the exit. We were almost out when I heard the sound of the basement door opening.

"Girls?" Mrs. Talbot called from the top of the stairs. "Is your homework done?"

Homework. Simon and Derek. I checked my watch. 7:58.

I scrambled out of the crawl space.

**.**

**A/N: ****_****************IMPORTANT QUESTION TO BE ANSWERED IN THE REVIEWS!:_ How tall is Chloe, Rae, Tori, Simon, and Derek in the books? I always thought Chole was 5', Rae 5'4, Tori 5'7, or something around there. Correct me if I'm wrong and tell me how tall the boys are. _IMPORTANT!_**

**Also, I should mention that in my previous chapter, "Smile" I wrote: "A feral smile would take over her blood-splattered face, showing incisors that could easily be the envy of all lions" ... yeah, what I meant was _canines_, not incisors. i confused the two and failed to notice it while editing. When I read this line in necro426's review, I was like..."Why in the world did I write incisors?. Lion's dont even have big incisors." Anyway, I changed it in the chapter already, this is just to make sure that everyone is now on the same page. **

**Well, I hope you enjoyed it and didn't hate me too much for making the cliff hanger fall flat on it's butt, just like Simon did. Please review. I like long ones (reviews, that is); I thought I should mention that. ****Thanks for reading!**


	17. Everything

**A/N: Before you all start to hate one me for taking so long... I'm just gonna say it was my b-day this Tuesday, so you can't yell at me. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the D.P. series.**

**.**

**Chapter 16**

**"Everything"**

After returning the key and washing up, it was time for the "conference" with Derek. I found Mrs. Talbot and told her I was going upstairs for math tutoring with him. She hesitated, but only for a moment, then sent me off.

I knew that the subject we'd be discussing wouldn't be math, but just in case, I took my newly arrived math text from my room and went around to the boys' side. The door was open, Derek hunched over the too-small desk, doing homework.

As I was about to knock on the doorframe, Derek turned his head and looked at me. I opened my mouth to greet him when he gave me a pointed look in the direction of the other side of the room. I followed his gaze and saw Simon, sprawled on his bed, completely oblivious to my presence. This was Derek's way of reminding me to keep my promise.

I breathed out a sigh and said, "Hi, Derek . . . hey, Simon."

Simon's head shot up at the mention of his name. He looked at me sceptically, so I threw in a small smile. It seemed to be enough for him to spring right back into his confident, cheery character. Either I was better at acting than I thought, or Simon is simply way too ignorant.

"Hey Chloe," he said as he jumped up from his position, closing the comic that he was reading. "I was just going to tell Derek that we should go downstairs to make sure that the nurses weren't giving you a hassle. They weren't, were they?"

I shook my head.

Derek set his math text and binder aside, getting up from his awkward, bent position. "I'll be in the shower. Start without me."

If I had no self-control, I'd be picking my jaw off of the floor. How Derek expected me to keep a conversation with Simon without having my eyeballs fall out of my head from rolling them too much, I did not know. I'm studying in arts to become a director, not an actress, there's a huge difference.

I was not about to be left for the wolves. "Won't the nurses hear the water running?"

He shrugged and shoved back his hair, lank and stringy now, the dark sheen of oil glistening under the lights. "Tell them I was already in there. I'll only be a few minutes."

He headed for the door, circling around me as wide as he could, probably so that I wouldn't be able to grab him and cling on for dear life.

Last resort. "Why don't you just shower in the morning?" Did he catch the bit of pleading mixed in with the question?

"I do," he muttered as he left the room.

Even though it didn't change anything, I still shot daggers in the back of Derek's head with my looks.

"Take me with you." I whined under my breath. This was going to be awkward.

"Come on in," Simon said, putting his comic away. "I don't bite." Oh, my God. I'm psychic.

He lay back in the middle of the bed, springs squeaking, then patted a spot at the edge.

"I'd say this is the first time I've had a girl in my bed . . . if I didn't mind sounding like a total loser."

I reached over to put the books on the bedside table, suppressing the shudder I that I felt coming on. As I opened my textbook to pretend we were actually working on math, I knocked the binder off Derek's. I glimpsed the cover and did a double take.

_College Algebra with Trigonometry._

I flipped through the pages.

"If you can understand any of that, you're way ahead of me," Simon said.

I wanted to point out that that's not something that I'd be bragging about, but curiosity won. "I thought Derek was in tenth grade."

"Yeah, but not in algebra. Or geometry, Or chemistry, or physics, or biology, though he's only in the twelfth grade in the sciences."

"Yeah, _only_ twelfth." I muttered.

So it wasn't _he_ who needed help in math. Apparently, Derek thought that I wasn't all too bright and would get away with excuse of Derek as a tutor. The sad part: I did. Now I won't say that I was always the smartest kid in my class, but I did get straight A's. I was obviously nowhere near Derek's level, and tutoring was only an excuse to talk in private, but I couldn't help feeling slightly bitter.

I grabbed the text and cracked it open on my lap, replacing the one already there I flipped to a random page, trying to figure out what the heck "The Induction Method of Proof," was.

After reading the page, I realized that I memorized almost everything that was on it, however, some of the terms didn't register in my head. I stubbornly went over it a couple more times, only to realize that nothing had changed. I smacked the two halves of the book together and looked up.

Simon was watching me dubiously. _Great._

I glanced around in search of something to say.

"Those are nice," I nodded in the direction of the hand-drawn comic pages taped to the wall. "You must ace art."

His eyes lit up. "Thanks. Actually, I don't ace art. Last year I barely passed. I pissed off the teacher because I kept handing in my comics. I was doing the assignments, just taking the techniques and using them for my stuff. She thought I was being a smart-ass."

"Ah."

"Well, when I kept handing in my stuff even after the first couple of warnings, I probably WAS being a smart-ass. Or just stubborn. But, as I was saying, I'm not that great at school overall – a solid B minus student. Derek's the genius. My best class is gym. I'm into cross-country, hurdles, b-ball, soccer . . ."

"I used to play soccer," I said, casually.

"Really? Maybe you and I should start a team. The Lyle House soccer club."

"Small club, don't you think?" I said, sarcatically.

"No, not small. _Exclusive_."

"_Speaking_ of exclusive clubs," I said, shifting my body to face Simon. "Are you planning on answering some questions?"

"My company isn't enough?" His eyebrows shot up in mock outrage. "Okay, you've been patient long enough. What do you want to know?" I wouldn't use the word _patient_ . . .

"Everything."

He grinned at me.

"You're a supernatural," Simon said.

My lips parted in disbelief, my eyes lowered to the fabric of the comforter atop the bed. The first thought that came to my head was along the lines of, "What meds are they giving you?" I voiced it.

He laughed at my response. "Hard pill to swallow, isn't it?"

"Just a bit."

"Well, believe me, you are. Just like me. Just like Derek."

I looked up, brows furrowing. "You . . . too?"

He chuckled again. "Yes, only I'm different from you. I'm a sorcerer. You see, there are several kinds of supernaturals. They're called races. The biggies would be necros, sorcerers and withes. Necros can see and talk to ghosts; sorcerers, like me, are male spell casters; and witches are female. It's a similar, but a different race, and not as strong as sorcerers, or so everyone says. What else? Half-demons, but don't ask me about them because I know next to nothing. Derek knows more. Oh, and shamans. They're good healers and can astral project."

"So you're telling me that there are people who can talk to ghosts, cast spells, and astral . . ."

"Astral project – leave their bodies. Cool for cheating on tests or sneaking into the girls' locker room . . . for guys who'd do that kind of thing. It's all hard to believe, I know. But it's true."

"Uh-huh. So then, what's Derek? You said he knows more about half-demons, is that what he is?"

He glanced toward the hall, head turning as if making sure he could still hear . . .

"The water's still on," I said.

He smiled at me. "That must come in handy . . . You dragged it out of me, okay?"

"Huh?"

He turned onto his side, moving close enough to brush my leg. His voice dropped. "About Derek. What he is. If he asks, you dragged it out of me."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, then. If it's way too much trouble . . ."

"No, it's not that. I– He wants you to know. Well, he will. It's just complicated. If you don't ask, he won't tell you. But if you ask . . ."

"I already did, but you didn't tell me."

His eyes lifted to mine, pleading with me to make this easy.

I sighed. "Fine. I'm asking. What is Derek? Is he one of those demon things?"

"No. There's not really a name for what he is. I guess you could call it the superman gene, but that's really cheesy."

I snorted, hearing my own personal reference.

"Which is why they don't call it that. Guys like Derek have . . . physical enhancements, you might say. Extra strong, as you saw, better senses, too. That kind of thing."

Which reminded me, "Then, am I the same thing as Derek?"

"Well, not quite."

"How do you know?"

He hesitated, seeming unsure of what he should say. "We don't know everything about you, yet. Derek only has some guesses so far. And, you two are alike in some ways, but . . . there seem to be things that are different."

"Like what?"

"Well, it's difficult to explain . . . but you see, if you were like Derek, he'd know right away. He can tell his own apart from other people."

My brows furrowed. "So, then what am I?"

He took a deep breath. "We're not sure. We've never encountered anything like you before. You'd have to talk to Derek, tell him as much as you know about yourself. That might help. One thing we know for sure, though – you are one of us."

I tried to chew it all over in my head. It all seemed like it belonged more on Simon's wall - in one of his comic pages - more than it did in the real world. But a gut feeling told me that this, in fact, was reality. In some ways, it all clicked together. Derek was strong and had super senses, Simon had his sorcerer's tricks, and I – I wasn't normal, either.

"So you're a sorcerer, huh? Is that why you ended up here? You did something?" I said, once my thoughts settled.

"Nah." He paused, shadow crossing over his face. "Well, kind of, but not magic. Something happened with Der–" He cut himself short. From Derek's file, I knew why _he_ was here. "Anyway, something happened. And then my dad disappeared and it's a very long story, but the short version is that we're stuck here until someone figures out what to do with us."

"Your dad's a sorcerer too, then? Does he know others like us?"

"Yes and yes. Supernaturals have a type of community. Maybe _network_ is a better word. You know others so you can talk to them, get things that you can't from the regular world, whatever. My dad used to be right into it. These days, not so much. Stuff . . . happened."

He went quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. "We'll get into that later. Huge story. The short answer is, yes, Dad used to be into the whole supernatural network. He worked for this research company, supernatural doctors and scientists trying to make things easier for other supernaturals. Dad's a lawyer, but they needed people like that, too. Anyway, that's how we got Derek."

I snorted. "_Got_ Derek?"

Simon made a face. "That didn't come out right. Sounds like Dad brought home a stray puppy. But that's kind of how it was. See, Derek's type? It's rare. We're all rare, but he's really, really rare. These people, the ones my dad worked for, they were raising him. He'd been orphaned or abandoned or something when he was just a baby and they wanted to make sure that he didn't end up in some human foster home, which would be bad when he hit, like, twelve and started throwing people across the room. Only my dad's company wasn't equipped to raise a kid. Derek doesn't talk much about living there, but I think it was like growing up in a hospital. My dad didn't like that, so they let him bring Derek home. It was . . . weird. Like he'd never been out before. Things like school or a shopping mall or even a highway totally freaked him out. He wasn't used to people. All that noise–"

He went still, head turning toward the hall. The pipes clanged as the water turned off.

"Later," he mouthed.

I shrugged.

I kind of liked the history lesson and I knew that if I wanted to hear any more, I'd need to play along, to not get Simon into any trouble from his brother.

"So," I began. "Anything else that I should know about? Should I watch out for any werewolves or vampires?"

He laughed. "That'd be cool."

What caught my attention, however, was Derek. Ready to leave the bathroom and handle audibly turned half way, he froze. I turned my head toward the door – wandering if his hesitation was only my imagination – to hear the handle turn all the way and Derek step out unfazed.

He walked in, towel-drying his hair.

"So, there are three of us? In one place? That has to mean something," I said.

"Derek thinks it's because some supernatural powers – like yours and his – can't be explained, so humans chalk them up to mental illness. Some kids in homes could be supernatural. Most aren't. But I think Derek should explain it. He does a much better job than me."

"Okay, back to me then. You said you're not sure what I am. You need more information to be sure." I switched my gaze from Simon to Derek. "What do you want to know?"

Derek had his back to me, neatly folding the towel and hanging it on the chair's back. "Everything that you do."

**.**

**A/N: Such a bad chapter. I changed like... nothing. I'm sorry, but this is just a filler that had to be done. Well, it has to do with the plot. . . but still. I hope you enjoyed?**

**Thanks for reading. I'll try to do better next time. I promise! .**


	18. Sixth Sense

**A/N : Wow, it's been a long time... I still down own these series, tho (disclaimer, and all)**

**.**

**Chapter 17**

Derek and Simon clearly knew a lot more about this supernatural stuff than I did. So I understood that in order for them to help me, I had to cooperate with them. I inhaled and as I exhaled, I pushed away the nagging uncertainty that came with having to reveal my power-slash-disorder and followed Derek's orders . . . sort of.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific." I said.

Derek sighed impatiently. "Fine. Why did you show up here yesterday?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "I overheard your conversation."

"You mean you heard us talking?" Simon asked as he sat up.

I nodded.

Derek furrowed his brow, scrutinizing me. "How well can you hear?"

"I hear you sleep. . ."

Simon snorted. "Does he snore?"

"No, that's you; made me think I was hallucinating the first day I got here." I glanced at Simon and saw a smile spread across his face, he missed my half-hearted dirty look.

"What about afterwards? How did you get away?" Derek stayed on topic.

"Nothing special. I just ran to my room, tried to stick to the shadows."

"What about your other senses?"

"I can smell pretty well, I can see in the dark. . . "

"Anything else?"

I thought for a moment. "Well, from what I could tell, I'm like you . . . but better."

Simon burst out laughing next to me while Derek took a slightly different approach. His lip curled as his eyes bore into mine from under the damp curtain of thick, black hair. "How so. . .?"

"Let's see . . . I can hear you sleep at night, the trails you leave with your scent are almost tangible. . ." I folded a finger every time I mentioned something. "The only difference between day and night is the lack of colour, I've grown three inches in the past week . . . Can you do any of this?"

Simon stopped laughing and stared at me. Derek didn't change his expression one bit. He was scrutinizing me, trying to figure out whether I was telling the truth.

"Don't look at me as if I'm lying. You've seen it for yourself – you were there half the time."

He didn't say anything, so I continued, telling them how I have what appears to be 'the sixth sense'.

"Wait, like that one for that movie?" Simon eyes widened as he glanced at Derek.

The reference to one of my favourite subjects, movies, put a small smile on my face. "You mean M. Night Shyamalan's only hit?"

Simon nodded.

"Not quite. Ghosts don't come to talk to me - and if they do, then I don't see them; it's more like. . . a sort of _heightened intuition_ that guides me. "

Derek's composure broke ever-so-slightly as he furrowed his eyebrows, most likely contemplating the truth behind my story. Simon continued glancing at him, trying to catch his eye and see his reaction, as he did each time I provided them with a new detail. They didn't ask any more questions and I continued, recalling what happened to me on the day that brought me to Lyle House.

That little nagging voice in my head returned, halting me for a moment and making me rearrange my thoughts. It made me realize that there were two things I couldn't tell them about: my period and the dream that I had that night. The reason why I left out the first point is rather simple; it is very PERSONAL and so EMBARRASSING and I had no plans of telling two guys about. The second point, however, was a bit more complicated. Firstly, it was a dream so I wasn't even sure myself if what I saw was real or not. Secondly, that dream leads to a series of other dreams and visions which are just as complicated and unreal as the first one. And finally, I wasn't going to tell the guys that I may or may not have possibly _murdered_ someone when I was four years old. I couldn't accept it, myself, so I had no idea how the guys would take it. Clearly, Derek didn't have such a clean past either, but at least he didn't rip anyone's throat out. If he had any sense left in him, he would march straight downstairs and tell the nurses that I should be locked far, far away.

He'd probably be right, too. But I couldn't let that happen, so I didn't mention either of those things and briefly went over that day.

"So, one day, it all crashed down on you? Just like that?" Simon asked

I nodded.

"For no reason?" he looked a bit unsure.

I diverted my eyes. "Not that I know of." Half-lie.

"But you mainly got here for fighting with your teachers, right?" He pressed on. "Why did you do it?"

I looked down on the comforter in front of me and smoothed it, trying to find the right words. I quickly glanced at Derek, who was still staring at me, waiting for a reply. Then I said: "Like I told you, I had a really bad headache. All of these new. . . powers, I guess, were too much for me. I couldn't think straight and then I . . . blanked out, and when I finally got to my senses, it was like I couldn't even control my own body. . ."

I looked up again. Simon seemed sympathetic as he glanced at his brother, Derek was the complete opposite. "Explain," was the only word he said.

I took a deep breath. This wasn't an easy subject for me to just 'explain'. It was all new to me and once again, finding the right words was difficult and took some time.

Derek shifted impatiently on his feet.

"I told you about my intuition . . ." I began. "Well, sometimes it just lightly warns me of . . . certain situations, so to speak – kind of like a feeling I would get." I paused. "Sometimes it's a bit more pronounced, like I can feel the separation between me and . . . _it_."

I took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Derek became more impatient, letting out an irritated grunt.

"And sometimes," I continued, "it would be so strong that it would take over, completely. It's like something would kick into gear and I wouldn't _think_ anymore. I would just _do_."

Simon and Derek exchanged looks.

"Wait, like instinct?" Simon asked as his gaze darted toward Derek once again.

"Sort of," I said. "But more like. . . there's two separate parts of me and one is usually more dormant. But when it's awake, it's like we're at war. I get headaches, mood swings, my vision clouds over red and my powers intensify . . . That other part is the one has the instinct. Then, when it senses trouble," I looked at Derek, "it relays it to me. If necessary, my body reacts on its own."

He looked back at me, straight into my eyes. "How often?"

"Well, the first time was that day, then when tossed me across the room, then when I pushed you, and then, just now, in the basement."

"And you feel threatened each time?"

I nodded.

"What happened in the basement?" He asked.

Derek knew what happened in general, he could hear me and Rae as we tried to break into the closet. What he wanted to know was what I _felt _while I was down there.

"I just had a really bad feeling about that crawl space. I couldn't stay there anymore. I don't know why, but I was really freaked out. I had to get out."

Simon opened his mouth to say something, but I raised my hand and looked at the door.

"Someone's coming," I said.

Derek was confused for a second, until, I guessed, he picked up the sound of the footsteps, as well, and nodded.

"Boys? Chloe?" Mrs. Talbot called form the stairs. "Snack time. Come on down."

Simon took an incredulous look between me and Derek.

"We'll be right there!" I called beck.

"We'll continue this later," Derek said as he walked out the door.

.

**A/N: ****Before the barrage of weaponry that is sure to fly my way for taking so long to update, I really must say that I do in fact apologize. And yes, i know**** it's almost been a year and i'm VERY, TRULLY, _SORRY_. Did my lousy update-less FanFic lose all its fans? I hope not! But i will understand if it did, it was my fault, after all (GAH! I'm sorry!) **

**For all my old readers and hopefully, some new ones, i hope you enjoyed! Please do review, it helps me make the story better. Once again, I'm really sorry, but you'll forgive me, right? ;) [I can just see the line of hell no's waiting for me in the reviews when i check back]**

**_AS AN UPDATE:_ It seems that for some reason, my email notifications for the reviews to this story have been turned off, and I just read them now... Even though I made you guys wait so long, you still had nothing but nice things to say and kept on supporting me and my story. It really made me feel so so so happy. Thank you all so much. I'll try to update shortly (hopefully it won't take another year)**


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